Page:Modern Russian Poetry.djvu/174

148 One he took, one he led, To the trunk roughly wed, A white bride. And the ax rose and hissed— And a voice was upraised And then died. Thus the first blow was dealt to the trunk.

Others followed him, others upraised That age-old bloody ax, That keen flint-bladed ax: The flesh once, The tree twice Fiercely cleaving.

And the trunk reddened fast And it took on a face. Lo,—this notch—is a nose, This—an eye, for the nonce. The flesh once, The trunk twice— Till all reddened the rise And the grass crimsoned deep. On the sod In the red stains there lies A new god.