Those to whom secretly oft
She had entrusted her soul? 
They that accompanied her e’er,
Faithful in forest and field? 
Silent they circle my child,
In tearful anguish embraced—­
Yet little actress she lies,
Smiling, closed lashes beneath;
See, she is laughing in truth—­
thou most merciless Death!

MAIKOW.

MOTHER AND CHILD

“Mother, why weepest thou ever
  For my little sister fair? 
She is now in heaven’s kingdom—­
  Ah, it must be wondrous there!”

“Yes, she is in heaven’s glory,
  But in heaven’s own land, alas! 
There are no butterflies nor flowers—­
  Nor meadows of velvet grass!”

“But mother, God’s blessed angels
  There, rejoicing sing to Him!”
Forth from the sunset’s rosy fires
  Now cometh the midnight dim.

Ah, the mother wants her baby—­
  That she watched from the window wide,
When ’mid butterflies and blossoms
  She played in the meadow’s pride!

MAIKOW.

AN EASTER GREETING

The lark at sunrise trills it high—­
The greeting Christ is risen! 
And through the wood the black-bird pipes
The greeting Christ is risen! 
Beneath the eaves the swallows cry
The greeting Christ is risen! 
Throughout the world man’s heart proclaims
The greeting Christ is risen! 
And echo answers from the grave
In truth, yes, He is risen!

MAIKOW.

AT EASTER

Drawing near the Easter Sunday
With the Easter-greeting kiss;
When I come, remember Dora—­
Not alone we suffer this! 
Then, as were it for the first time—­
Kiss thou me and I kiss thee;
Thou with modest eyelids downcast,
I with but ill stifled glee!

MAIKOW.

The religious custom of the Easter-greeting kiss prevails throughout Russia.

O MOUNTAINS OF MY NATIVE COUNTRY!

“O mountains of my native country!  O valleys of my home! 
On you gleam Winter’s snowflakes white and twinkle lambs of Summer—­
On you the rosy sunlight glows, you know no deathly shudder!”

So, ’neath the earth did wistful yearn three homesick youths in Hades,
Who fain from out that under world to worlds above would hasten. 
  The first declared “We’ll go in Spring!” The second “No, in Summer!”
“No,” cried the third, “at harvesting, in time the grapes to gather!”
A listening maiden fair, o’erheard with heart resistless throbbing;
Upon her breast her arms she crossed and begged of them imploring—­
  “O take me to the upper world!” Alone the youths made answer,
“That cannot be, you fairest maid, that you with us be taken! 
Your heels would clatter as you speed, your dress would rustle silken,
Your rattling ornaments warn death to hear us all escaping.”