The peasants are sobered, They look at each other, And silently cross themselves. Then they breathe deeply; And never before Did the poor squalid village Called "Ignorant-Duffers," Of Volost "Old-Dustmen," Draw such an intense And unanimous breath.... 630 Their pleasure, however, Was not very lasting, Because with the death Of the ancient Pomyeshchick, The sweet-sounding words Of his heirs and their bounties Ceased also. Not even A pick-me-up after The yesterday's feast Did they offer the peasants. 640 And as to the hayfields-- Till now is the law-suit Proceeding between them, The heirs and the peasants. Old Vlasuchka was By the peasants appointed To plead in their name, And he lives now in Moscow. He went to St. Petersburg too, But I don't think 650 That much can be done For the cause of the peasants. PART III. THE PEASANT WOMAN PROLOGUE "Not only to men Must we go with our question, We'll ask of the women," The peasants decided. They asked in the village "Split-up," but the people Replied to them shortly, "Not here will you find one. But go to the village 'Stripped-Naked'--a woman 10 Lives there who is happy. She's hardly a woman, She's more like a cow, For a woman so healthy, So smooth and so clever, Could hardly be found. You must seek in the village Matrona Korchagin-- The people there call her 'The Governor's Lady.'" 20 The peasants considered And went.... Now already The corn-stalks are rising Like tall graceful columns, With gilded heads nodding, And whispering softly In gentle low voices. Oh, beautiful summer! No time is so gorgeous, 30 So regal, so rich. You full yellow cornfields, To look at you now One would never imagine How sorely God's people Had toiled to array you Before you arose, In the sight of the peasant, And stood before him, Like a glorious army 40 n front of a Tsar! 'Tis not by warm dew-drops That you have been moistened, The sweat of the peasant Has fallen upon you. The peasants are gladdened At sight of the oats And the rye and the barley, But not by the wheat, For it feeds but the chosen: 50 "We love you not, wheat! But the rye and the barley We love--they are kind, They feed all men alike."