Works Of Alexander Pushkin - Works of Alexander Pushkin Part 137
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Works of Alexander Pushkin Part 137

That crowns the Admiralty's spire;

When, chasing far the shades of night,

In cloudless sky of golden pure,

Dawn quick usurps the pale twilight,

And brings to end her half-hour reign.

I love thy winters bleak and harsh;

Thy stirless air fast bound by frosts;

The flight of sledge o'er Neva wide,

That glows the cheeks of maidens gay.

I love the noise and chat of balls;

A banquet free from wife's control,

Where goblets foam, and bright blue flame

Darts round the brimming punch-bowl's edge.

I love to watch the martial troops

The spacious Field of Mars fast scour;

The squadrons spruce of foot and horse;

The nicely chosen race of steeds,

As gaily housed they stand in line,

Whilst o'er them float the tattered flags;

The gleaming helmets of the men

That bear the marks of battle-shot.

I love thee, when with pomp of war

The cannons roar from fortress-tower;

When Empress-Queen of all the North

Hath given birth to royal heir;

Or when the people celebrate

Some conquest fresh on battle-field;

Or when her bonds of ice once more

The Neva, rushing free, upheaves,

The herald sure of spring's rebirth.

Fair city of the hero, hail!

Like Russia, stand unmoved and firm!

And let the elements subdued