Poems (1898)/Siberia

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For works with similar titles, see Siberia.
For other versions of this work, see Siberia (Coates).


The night-wind drives across the leaden skies,
 And fans the brooding earth with icy wings;
 Against the coast loud-booming billows flings,
 And soughs through forest-deeps with moaning sighs.
Above the gorge, where snow, deep fallen, lies—
 A softness lending e'en to savage things—
 Above the gelid source of mountain springs,
 A solitary eagle, circling, flies.
O pathless woods, O isolating sea,
 O steppes interminable, hopeless, cold,
 O grievous distances, imagine ye,
Imprisoned here, the human soul to hold?
 Free, in a dungeon,—as yon falcon free,—
 It soars beyond your ken, its loved ones to infold!