The Russian Review/Volume 1/April 1916/John Damaskin
By Count Alexis Tolstoy.
Translated by P. Leonov.
I bless ye woods, with verdure streaming,
Ye dells, fields, hills, and waters free,
And thee I bless, O Liberty,
And thee, O sky, with azure gleaming.
My staff so trusty bless I, fetching,
And this, my bag, companion true,
This field from end to end outstretching,
The sun's bright beam, the night's dark hue;
This lonely path, which now I'm treading,
A beggar, coming from afar,
Each blade of grass, in fields outspreading,
And in the sky each twinkling star.
Oh, if within myself enfolding
All life, my soul I merged with you,
O friends, in warm embraces holding,—
And foes, e'en mischievous and scolding,—
And all of Nature with you, too!