FATHER of ours! famous, quiet Don! Don Ivanovich, our nourisher! Great praise of thee is spoken, Great praise and words of honor, That thou didst swiftly run in olden days, Swiftly but all clearly didst thou run. But now, our nourisher, all troubled dost thou flow, Troubled unto thy depths art thou, O Don. Then glorious, quiet Don thus made reply, -- "How otherwise than troubled can I be? I have sent forth my falcons bright, My falcons bright, the Don-Kazaks. Deprived of them my steep banks crumble down, Deprived of them my shoals are thick with sand." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BARMAID AND THE ALEXANDRITE by KAREN SWENSON A CRADLE SONG by WILLIAM BLAKE MOTLEY: MUSIC by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE FRAGMENT THIRTY-SIX by HILDA DOOLITTLE ASPATIA'S SONG, FR. THE MAID'S TRAEGDY by JOHN FLETCHER A PETITION TO TIME by BRYAN WALLER PROCTER CRADLE SONG (TO A TUNE OF BLAKE'S): 1 by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE |