Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, HOLY RUSSIA, by EDNA DEAN PROCTOR


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

HOLY RUSSIA, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Have you heard how holy russia
Last Line: Shall holy russia be!
Alternate Author Name(s): Dean
Subject(s): Religion; Russia; Theology; Soviet Union; Russians


HAVE you heard how Holy Russia
Is guarded, night and day,
By saints gone home to the world of light,
Yet watching her realm for aye? —
Nicholas, Vladimir, Michael,
Catharine, Olga, Anna;
Barbara, borne from her silent tower
To the angels' glad hosanna;
Cyril, Ivan, Alexander,
Sergius, Feodor;
Basil, the bishop beloved,
And a thousand thousand more.
They walk the streets of the city,
Waving their stately palms,
And the river that runs by the Father's throne
Keeps time to their joyous psalms.
But they do not forget, in their rapture,
The land of their love below;
Blessing they send to its poorest friend,
Defiance to proudest foe.
So in cloister, and palace, and cottage,
Cathedral, and wayside shrine,
We cherish their sacred Icons,
Token of care divine;
And with beaten gold in fret and fold,
And gems the Czar might wear,
And costliest pearls of the Indian seas,
We make their vesture fair.
We set them along our altars
In many a gorgeous row,
The blessed Saviour in their midst,
And the Virgin, pure as snow;
And lamps we hang before them,
Soft as the star that shines
In the rosy west, when the purple clouds
Drift dark above the pines.
The deep chants ring; the censers swing
In wreaths of fragrance by;
And there we bend, while our prayers ascend
To their waiting hearts on high;
And our Lord, and Mary-Mother,
With faces sweet and grave,
Remembering all their tears and woes,
Grant every boon they crave.

Have you heard that each true-born Russian,
Child of the Lord in baptism,
Receives some name of the shining ones
With the touch of the precious chrism? —
And the saint, thenceforth, is his angel;
Ready, through gloom or sun,
To share his sorrows and cheer his way
Till his earthly years are done.
When friends have fled, and love is lost,
And darkest ills betide,
There's a gleam of wings athwart the sky,
And the peace of the glorified
Falls on his soul as the gentle dew
Descends on the parching plain, —
And he knows that his angel heard his sighs
And stooped to heal his pain.
Nor cares he when, or where, or how
The hour of his death may come,
For the Lord of the saints will welcome him,
And his angel bear him home.
And, to mark his faith's devotion,
As a jewel of love and pride
He bears on his breast forever
The cross of the Crucified; —
Bright with rubies and diamonds,
Fashioned of silver and gold,
Or only carved from the cedar
That grows on the windy wold;
Cut from a stone of the Ourals,
Or the amber that strews the shore; —
Close to his heart he wears it
Till his pulses beat no more.

O happy, Holy Russia!
Thrice favored of the Lord!
Around whose towers, when danger lowers,
The saints keep watch and ward!
She need not fear the marshalled hosts
Of her haughtiest Christian foe;
Nor Islam's hate, though at Moscow's gate
The stormy bugles blow!
Fair will her eagle-banners float
Above Sophia's dome,
When heaven shall bring her righteous Czar
In triumph to his Rome;
And Constantine and Helena
Will "Alleluia!" cry,
To see the cross victorious
In their imperial sky.
Ah! what a day when all the way
To Marmora's sunny sea —
From Finland's snows to fields of rose —
Shall Holy Russia be!





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net