Page:Modern Russian Poetry.djvu/123

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She sits on tumulus Savoor, and stares, Old woman Death, upon the crowded road. Like a blue flame the small flax-flower flares Thick through the meadows sowed.

And says old woman Death: "Hey, traveler! Does any one want linen, linen fit For funeral wear? A shroud, madam or sir, I'll take cheap coin for it!"

And says serene Savoor: "Don't crow so loud! Even the winding-sheet is dust, and cracks And crumbles into earth, that from the shroud May spring the sky-blue flax."