Self defence nothing boots thee,
Thy flight he will worst—
To earth he will tread thee,
O Gossip be cursed!
NIKITIN.
IN A PEASANT HUT
Sultry dampness—pine chips smoking,
Off-scourings a span length,
In the corners webs of spiders,
Smut on dish and bench.
Sooty black the bare wall, crock stained,
Water—dry hard bread;
Groanings, coughings, children's whimper,
Wretched bitter need!
And a beggar's death for years of
Harshest drudgery—
Learn to put your trust in God here,
And to patient be.
NIKITIN.
WINTER NIGHT IN THE VILLAGE
O'er the church roof wanders
Mute and calm the moon,
Blue upon the snowdrifts
Sparkling silent down.
By the small pond dreaming,
Stands the church a'gleam—
With its gold cross twinkling
As a taper's beam.