Konstantin Konstantinovich Romanov

“ My northern fields I see, all fair and snowy lying,
Our village chimes I hear, their note familiar swells,
And from that distant land, unto my thought replying
With kindness and with tenderness, resound the friendly bells. ”

“ How fresh, how sweet the roses!
IMMORTALITY.
No, I cannot believe, that when the grave has claimed us,
⁠Our memories of life we shall not keep;
Nor will Death take away forever joys and sorrows,
⁠By sinking us into eternal sleep.
On opening somewhere there, shall then our eyes be blinded,
⁠Our ears forever lose the power to hear?
And memory of the past,—beyond the coffin's darkness—
⁠Will not the soul released still hold it dear?
Within that other world, could Raphael awaking,
⁠Forget his Sistine Virgin thron'd above? ”