A storm burst forth! From out the storm The clean, red lightning leapt, And lo! a prostrate royal form. . . And Alexander slept! Down through the snow, all smoking, warm, Like any blood, his crept. Yea, one lay dead, for millions dead! One red spot in the snow, For one long damning line of red, Where exiles endless go -- The babe at breast, the mother's head Bowed down, and dying so. And did a woman do this deed? Then build her scaffold high, That all may on her forehead read Her martyr's right to die! Ring Cossack round on royal steed! Now lift her to the sky! But see! From out the black hood shines A light few look upon! Lorn exiles, see, from dark, deep mines, A star at burst of dawn!. . . A thud! A creak of hangman's lines! -- A frail shape jerked and drawn!. . . The Czar is dead; the woman dead, About her neck a cord. In God's house rests his royal head -- Hers in a place abhorred -- Yet I had rather have her bed Than thine, most royal lord! Aye, rather be that woman dead, Than thee, dead-living Czar, To hide in dread, with both hands red, Behind great bolt and bar. . . You may control to the North Pole, But God still guides his star. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPISTLE TO WILLIAM SIMPSON OF OCHILTREE by ROBERT BURNS BUNKER HILL by GEORGE HENRY CALVERT IN TIME OF 'THE BREAKING OF NATIONS' by THOMAS HARDY THE WARNING by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW RHOECUS by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL ELEGIAC SONNET: 44. WRITTEN IN THE CHURCH YARD AT MIDDLETON IN SUSSEX by CHARLOTTE SMITH |