To-morrow, to-morrow they march on the foe.”
“Nay, I have no fear of the frost and its might—
To-morrow, to-morrow, I stand in men’s sight
As queenly and fair, as green-leaved and bright.”
“I am not afraid of the coming of dawn,
Though to-morrow, to-morrow will see us march on—
To-morrow, to-morrow the Cossack is gone....”
“Sprinkle the roads that the dust may not fly:
Cheer father and mother, friends, lest they may sigh.”
They have sprinkled the roads, but the dust hangs in clouds,