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，

　　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!