GOSSIP
Though blameless thy living
As Anchorite's fate,
Yet Gossip will find thee
Or early or late.
Through keyhole he enters
And stands at thy side,
Doors of wood nor of stone
Against him provide.
He pulls the alarm bell
At slightest excuse--
And down to thy grave
Will pursue with abuse.
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.
Peaceful in the village
Darkness reigns and sleep,
Every hut is standing
Snowed in window deep.
Out upon the highway
Hushed and empty all,
Now the howling watch dogs
Even, silent fall.
After their day's labor
Young and old are pressed
Weak and worn, on their hard
Narrow place of rest.
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