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104
Poems of Nature.
THE WINTER-ROAD.
IV. 161.
Breaking thro' the waving fogs
Forth the moon is coming,
And on the gloomy acres
She gloomy light is shedding.
Along the wintry, cheerless road
Flies the rapid troika
The little bell monotonous
Wearily is tinkling.
A certain homefulness is heard
In the driver's lengthy lays:
Now light-hearted carelessness,
Now low-spirited sadness.
Neither light, nor a dark hut …
Only snow and silence.…
Striped mileposts are alone
The travellers who meet us.
