The Plains of Bessarabia

Here the white cattle graze that feedThe Austrian Kaiser's towns,Close-watched by dogs alert to leapIf 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 flockWhile 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 roofThat holds her summer nest;But nothing stirs his drowsy bloodUnless a lamb should stray,—Then woe to wolf or Gypsy thiefThat lurks beside the way.