Now that troops stick their bayonets—in the earth,
That they wrap the Saint's Face* —in a scarlet cloth,
That, in face of these blows, God is—deaf and dumb,
That at Easter the Kremlin admits no one—

We shall soon see old revellers ply the loom,
Fishes—sing, old wives—meditate, birds—creep, soon
See the steed mount its rider and race away,
See them start feeding wine to the new-born babe,**

Rivers—burn, windows—open to pass the dead,
On the stroke of midnight—the sun rise, blood-red,
The fiance forget his beloved's name...
And tsarinas—love commoners once again.***

3rd day of Easter 1918

* The red flag with which they covered the face of lint] Nicholas the Miracle-Worker. The sequel—is well own.
** They did feed wine: to Madame de Genlis. In Burgun-It was known as "la miaulee." And apparently she lived
ninety. But she was a fearful hypocrite.
***—They did love them.