TO THE TSAR (1890)
O Thou into whose human hand is given
A godlike might! who, for thy earthly hour,
Above reproof, self-counseled and self-shriven,
Wieldest o'er regions vast despotic power!
Mortal, who by a breath,
A look, a hasty word, as soon forgot,
Commandest energies of life and death!—
Midst terrors dread, that darkly multiply,
Wilt thou thy vision blind, and listen not
Whilst unto Heaven ascends thy people's cry?
In vain, in vain! The injuries they speak
Down unto final depths their souls have stirr'd:
The aged plead through them, the childish-weak,
The mad, the dying,—and they shall be heard!
Thou wilt not hear them; but,
Though Heaven were hedged about with walls of stone,
And though with brazen gates forever shut,
And sentried 'gainst petitions of despair,
'T were closely guarded as thy fearful throne,
That cry of helpless wrong should enter there!
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