Florence Randal Livesay

From “Slavic Songs”

HEAVILY hangs the rye

Bent to the trampled ground;

While brave men fighting die

Through blood the horses bound.

Under the white-stemmed tree

A Cossack bold is slain—

They lift him tenderly

Into the ruined grain.

Someone has borne him there,

Someone has put in place

A scarlet cloth, with prayer,

Over the up-turned face.

Softly a girl has come—

Dove-like she looks; all gray—

Stares at the soldier dumb

And, crying, goes away.

Then, swift, another maid—

Ah, how unlike she is!—

With grief and passion swayed

Gives him her farewell kiss.

The third one does not cry,

Caresses none has she;

“Three girls thy love flung by—

Death rightly came to thee!”