CONSTANTINOPLE, MARCH MCMXV

Royal and imperial suitors has she known

Pass one by one across her dreaming years,

And some a while have climbed the golden throne,

And some have passed away in blood and tears;

For many emperors have sought her grace

Since the first Constantine in sweeping cloak

Her seven hills with broad unhurrying pace

Measured, and rested not till Heaven spoke.

A haughty fatalist Byzantium waits

What chance the storing centuries bring forth:

Another lover almost at the gates,

Heralded by the cannon of the North,

A Northern King to wed the Eastern Queen,

An iron clasp to set the shining gem,

Thrice-changed Constantinople to be seen

The Jewel of a Russian diadem!