ST. PETERSBURG.
See! From the Finland marshes there
'T is grand St. Isaac's rears in air,
Column on column, that shining dome!
And, just beyond its glorious swell,
'T is the slender spire of the Citadel
Where great Czar Peter slumbers well
All by the Neva's flood and foam,—
That lifts its cross till the golden bars
Gleam and burn with the midnight stars!
'T is grand St. Isaac's rears in air,
Column on column, that shining dome!
And, just beyond its glorious swell,
'T is the slender spire of the Citadel
Where great Czar Peter slumbers well
All by the Neva's flood and foam,—
That lifts its cross till the golden bars
Gleam and burn with the midnight stars!
Taller than Luxor's shafts, and grander,
Looms the Pillar of Alexander
Over the Palace that fronts the Square;
And out where the mist o'er Okhta flies,
The towers of the Nevski Cloister rise,
Shrine of the saint who, deathless, lies
Sealed in silver and jewels rare;
And Smolnoi's wealth of spangled blue
Beams all the dusky distance through.
Looms the Pillar of Alexander
Over the Palace that fronts the Square;
And out where the mist o'er Okhta flies,
The towers of the Nevski Cloister rise,
Shrine of the saint who, deathless, lies
Sealed in silver and jewels rare;
And Smolnoi's wealth of spangled blue
Beams all the dusky distance through.
