Page:Songs of Russia.djvu/38

 O’er thy plains, my native country,
 * In the years now past away,

Never did I ride with feelings
 * Such as fill my soul to-day!

In its mother’s arms reposing,
 * Lo! a peasant’s child I see,

And my heart is stirred to gladness
 * By a thought most dear to me.

You were born in times auspicious, Child, into this world below; With God’s help, in days before you,
 * Pain and grief you shall not know.

With the light of youth around you,
 * Ere you enter on the strife,

Freely and with none to hinder
 * You shall choose your path in life.

You shall, if you so desire it,
 * Be a peasant evermore;