Poems (Proctor)/The Plains of Bessarabia
THE PLAINS OF BESSARABIA.
Here the white cattle graze that feed The Austrian Kaiser's towns,Close-watched by dogs alert to leap If but the herder frowns,—Close-watched when, at the sunset hour, With bellowings deep and loud,To quench their thirst in the cooling stream, Wild-eyed and fierce they crowd.And here the shepherd tends his flock While the long days go by—Now couched beside them in the plain, Now on the khourgans high;—The plover calls across the steppe; The stork, with snowy breast,Flies northward to the kindly roof That holds her summer nest;But nothing stirs his drowsy blood Unless a lamb should stray,—Then woe to wolf or Gypsy thief That lurks beside the way.