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THE PINES
v. v. bashkin
The dark pines by my window murmur low,
The wind sways sleepily their summits hoar;
I hear them whispering in monotone
Still the same tale—the same forevermore.
“In a sad part of earth we sprang to life;
In a sad land no happiness can dwell.
We by the dim gray mists are wearied out;
Our lives are drearier than a prison cell.
“We have forgotten how to wait and hope.
Here we are cold, and darksome is the sky.
Here we can only suffer and endure
In patience; here it would be good to die.”
The sad pines by my window murmur low,
The wind sways sleepily their summits hoar;
I hear them whispering in monotone
Still the same tale—the same forevermore.
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