John Gould Fletcher. Russia. Harriet Monroe, ed. Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912-22

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CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22.

Russia

By John Gould Fletcher


862 A. D.	To R. N. Linscott I DARKNESS broods over the east,
	Over the plain, the land of horses;
	Darkness and wintry silence
	And death.

The Northmen enter Russia	But a blue-white light from the north	5
The Northmen enter Russia	Suddenly flares up at midnight;
	And in the glare, on the horizon,
	A horseman rides alone.

	He sits on his great white horse;
	A strong white bow is in his hands;	10
	Beneath his gold-horned helmet
	Thick braids of golden hair descend.

	He goes forth conquering and to conquer,
	He goes forth seeking a golden crown—
	From the frozen marshes of the north	15
	To where the rivers bend south-eastward.

Rurik, Sineus and Truvor and their descendants found great cities	A brood of lions follow him,
	Shaggy-haired, with broad golden manes;
	Eaters of sheep,
	Founders of cities.	20

	In the depths of the steppe,
	Upon the banks of broad golden rivers,
	Facing south-westward,
	The cities rise:

	Kiev with its golden domes	25
	On which there stands the Cross,
	Vladimir, Ryazan, Tver,
	Novgorod, Moscow.

	Lord Novgorod the great
	Looks to the north and east;	30
	Moscow sits in the centre,
	And dreams.

The cities contend with each other for the mastery	The heroes go forth every morning
	To battle with each other.
	At night about the wine-board	35
	They sit, feasting.

1224 A. D.	II Out of the east
	Comes the great dawn;
	Red is the dawn,
	Red and fearful.	40

The Tatars suddenly invade Russia	From the south-east
	Runs a red horse;
	Foam drips from his bridle-bits,
	His hoof withers the grass.

	Dark is the man	45
	Who rides on him,
	Clad in black armor,
	Lean and yellow his face.

	He carries a great black sword
	With which to smite the people;	50
	He has power to take peace from the earth.
	That men may kill each other.

	Under the yoke
	The princes pass;
	They are his oxen,	55
	He their lord.

Russia pays tribute to the Khan of the Western Mongols	Every day in the mills
	The grain is ground;
	Each day rich tribute
	Goes to the Golden Horde.	60

Whose capitol is on the Lower Volga	Down at Sarai
	Is the camp of the Khan;
	Wearily travel
	The oxen thither.

	Down at Sarai	65
	The great Khan sleeps,
	But the claws of his falcons
	Are fastened into the lion’s throat.

1380 A. D. The Tatars are defeated by the Princes of Moscow, who attain to great power	III Noonday within the east,
	Noonday and a loud sound of bells	70
	Pealing and crying
	That the Third Rome is born.

	Out of the great red gates
	Of the Third Rome
	Rides a man in scarlet	75
	Mounted upon a black horse.

	A golden cross is on his breast,
	A pair of scales is in his hand
	With which to measure and fit the earth,
	With which to weigh the people’s grain.	80

	A measure of wheat for a penny,
	And three measures of barley for a penny.
	See that thou hurt not oil or wine,
	See that the land is tilled.

And crush the remaining independent principalities	But woe to thee, city of Pskov!	85
	Woe to thee, Lord Novgorod!
	The weight of the law of the Third Rome
	Shall break your liberty.

Great expansion of the Muscovy power	Woe to thee, people of Rus,
	Who set at nought the scales of law:	90
	North, east, south, west, you shall wander,
	But never find a home.

1603 A. D. “The Troublous Times”	IV Darkness broods over the east,
1603 A. D. “The Troublous Times”	Over the plain, that land of horses;
	Darkness and wintry silence	95
	And death.

	Far away to the west
	Hangs a great crimson fire;
	It is the sunlight departing
	Over the plain.	100

Rise of the House of Romanov: Peter the Great, 1689–1725	Out of the west there rides
	The horseman of the twilight,
	The great pale horseman
	Whose name is Death.

	And he carries in his hand	105
	A lash of thongs;
	And he has power to slay
	With hunger.

	And the eagles of the west
	Pass after him;	110
	Sea-eagles unsated
	Fan with their dark wings his face.

	Darkness settles faster
	Upon the plain;
	But the man on the gaunt grey horse	115
	Rides on.

	On to the north
	Where a blue-white light faintly glimmers
	Over the black pine-forests,
	Over the frozen seas.	120

Founding of Petrograd, the third capital of Russia	Two cities have long ago fallen,
	But there is one city to found yet—
	A city of dreary phantoms,
	A city of death.

	At the edges of the north,	125
	At the borders of the locked sea,
	The pale horse rears
	And stands.

	Darkness, total darkness!
	And in the darkness	130
	Furiously from east to west
	The winds go forth to battle.

Oppressive rule—stirrings of revolt	V But the souls of them that were slain
Oppressive rule—stirrings of revolt	And buried beneath the granite
	Rise up again at midnight	135
	And cry their final cry:

	“How long, how long the darkness,
	How long wilt not avenge us?
	For here our blood is written
	On every inch of soil;	140

	“For here our cause is crushed
	Under the hoofs of proud horsemen;
	For here our cause is forgotten,
	Dead in the utter darkness.”

	So they cry all together,	145
	And only the silence answers.
	But the power of that silence
	Has given them power to live.

	And they go out to the streets of the city,
	To speak to all hearts at midnight,	150
	How the last seal will be loosened,
	The final trumpet blown.

1917 A. D. Revolution	VI Dawn comes out of the east,
	Dawn with a tumult of flying horses;
	White clouds of springtime,	155
	Careering, galloping.

	Stallion on stallion charging
	Westward, to the horizon;
	But in the midst of them
	Rides Liberty unbound.	160

	Her tossing, golden hair
	Is mingled with the sea of manes;
	Her voice cries, “On, you wild ones,
	Stop not nor falter!”

	Out of ten thousand trenches	165
	A million weary eyes
	Shall see her pass across the plains,
	And cry, “Come faster!”

	A million starving ones
	Shall smile at her,	170
	Shall stretch out their cold hands to her
	Before they die.

	A million broken ones
	Shall make their bodies
	The pathway for her feet;	175

	A million eager ones
	Shall leap forth from their trenches
	To follow her command.

	Like a white flame that gathers force
	She shall fill all the land	180
	With song of victory.

	Like the great flame of noon,
	She shall spread out her wings;
	And grant us all we longed for, could not find,
	The peace surpassing human understanding. March 16, 1917, 1.15 p. m.	185

CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

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