NEKRASSOW.
The stoves of the peasants are built so that they can sleep on top of them in the extreme cold of Winter.
TO RUSSIA
'Neath a giant tent
Of the heavens blue,
Stretch the verdant Steppes;
Range beyond the view.
On the distant rim
Lift the outlines proud,
Of their mountain walls
To the drifting cloud.
Through the Steppes there rolls
Stream on stream to sea,
Wide meandering,
Straying far and free.
Do I Southward gaze—
Like the ocean there,
Ripening fields of grain
Wave and ripple fair.
Softest velvet sod
Decks the meadow floor,
In the vineyards green
Swells the grape once more.
Do I Northward turn—
O'er the waste lands lone,
Soft as eider down
Are the snowflakes blown.
And his azure waves
High the ocean lifts,
On his cold blue breast
Now an iceberg drifts.