Two Capitals—1910
White Moscow of the pearly towers,
And golden domes for praise,
And chiming hours!
Red Moscow of the Kremlin walls,
And bloody battle ways,
And fire-scarred halls!
Beautiful Moscow brave and bright,
Whose banners floated toward the light When Asia knocked at Europe's door And bleeding tzars paid off our score— Ah, shining city, far away Your gaudy spires salute the day Like opal-hearted iris flowers Decking the blue transparent hours.
Now from your seat the slim rails run Through Asia to the rising sun,
Along the ancient highway
By caravan and cavalcade.
Still East and West meet at your gate—That Kremlin gate where once in
Great Europe's conqueror, seeking room,
Marched through triumphant to his doom.
Proud Moscow of barbaric tzars,
Of gorgeous crownings and dark wars,
Jewel-encrusted, rich with age,
Heir of a lordly heritage,
Look out from Ivan's tower of bells—See, the vast East is proud with day!
Soon to your ancient
The world will march the Asian way.
White Moscow of the pearly towers.
And golden domes for praise And chiming hours!
Red Moscow of the Kremlin walls,
And bloody battle ways And fire-scarred halls!
Under her yellow roofs adream The imperial city sleeps in state,
While warrior nations, flags agleam,
Come marching through her fortress gate.
Beneath her towered wall, one by one,
The slow contemptuous camels tread,
And through it eager engines run Over the dust of ages dead.
Peking! close bound in triple walls,
Between the old and new she lies;
The yellow dragon guards her halls,
The blare of trumpets fills her skies.
She stirs out of her age-long sleep By the worn temples chill and still,
Where Sung and Ming and Mongol keep Their ghostly watch from hill to hill.
Over the graves of dynasties The winds of dawn blow free and far— Heralds of hastening centuries,
With banners flown for peace or war.
O brooding East!
O winds of dawn!
From the night-long feast The kings are gone.
What guests will come Down the world's highway At the roil of the drum For the day?
Harriet Monroe
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