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| LAND of the Martyrs—of the martyred dead | |
| And martyred living—now of noble fame! | |
| Long wert thou saddest of the nations, wed | |
| To Sorrow as the fire to the flame. | |
| Not yet relentless History had writ of Teuton shame. | 5 |
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| Thou knewest all the gloom of hope deferred. | |
| ’Twixt God and Russia wrong had built such bar | |
| Each by the other could no more be heard. | |
| Seen through the cloud, the child’s familiar star, | |
| That once made Heaven near, had made it seem more far. | 10 |
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| Land of the Breaking Dawn! No more look back | |
| To that long night that nevermore can be: | |
| The sunless dungeon and the exile’s track. | |
| To the world’s dreams of terror let it flee. | |
| To gentle April cruel March is now antiquity. | 15 |
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| Yet—of the Past one sacred relic save: | |
| That boundary-post ’twixt Russia and Despair,— | |
| Set where the dead might look upon his grave,— | |
| Kissed by him with his last-breathed Russian air. | |
| Keep it to witness to the world what heroes still may dare. | 20 |
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| Land of New Hope, no more the minor key, | |
| No more the songs of exile long and lone; | |
| Thy tears henceforth be tears of memory. | |
| Sing, with the joy the joyless would have known | |
| Who for this visioned happiness so gladly gave their own. | 25 |
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| Land of the warm heart and the friendly hand, | |
| Strike the free chord; no more the muted strings! | |
| Forever let the equal record stand— | |
| A thousand winters for this Spring of Springs, | |
| That to a warring world, through thee, millennial longing brings. | 30 |
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| On thy white tablets, cleansed of royal stain, | |
| What message to the future mayst thou write!— | |
| The People’s Law, the bulwark of their reign, | |
| And vigilant Liberty, of ancient might, | |
| And Brotherhood, that can alone lead to the loftiest height. | 35 |
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| Take, then, our hearts’ rejoicing overflow, | |
| Thou new-born daughter of Democracy, | |
| Whose coming sets the expectant earth aglow. | |
| Soon the glad skies thy proud new flag shall see, | |
And hear thy chanted hymns of hope for Russia new and free.
April, 1917 | 40 |
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