< Modern Russian Poetry
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JULY 14, AT NIGHT
Not yet cooled, the windless night
Of July shone strangely still.
Earth lay dim, and fitful light
In the skyey, storm-filled height
Trembled over field and hill.
So might lidded eyes unclose,
And between vast lashes burn
Glances flaming and morose,
Over earth's remote repose,
Mute as lightning, swift and stern.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.| Original: |
This work was published before January 1, 1927, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago. |
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