Batuschka.

From yonder gilded minaret     Beside the steel-blue Neva set,     I faintly catch, from time to time,     The sweet, aerial midnight chime--     "God save the Tsar!"     Above the ravelins and the moats     Of the white citadel it floats;     And men in dungeons far beneath     Listen, and pray, and gnash their teeth--     "God save the Tsar!"     The soft reiterations sweep     Across the horror of their sleep,      "Little Father," or "Dear Little Father,"     a term of endearment applied     to the Tsar in Russian folk-song.     As if some daemon in his glee     Were mocking at their misery--     "God save the Tsar!"     In his Red Palace over there,     Wakeful, he needs must hear the prayer.     How can it drown the broken cries     Wrung from his children's agonies?--     "God save the Tsar!"     Father they called him from of old--     Batuschka! . . .    How his heart is cold!     Wait till a million scourged men     Rise in their awful might, and then--     God save the Tsar!