East To Latvia. Poem by Matt Mooney

They are a people quiet and deep,
The Latvians: here in Riga
They remember Ninety One-
The year the Russians left.

In the centre of Boulevard Brivibas,
At the monument they call Milda,
Two soldiers guard with honour
The freedom of a young Republic.

On the Duagava in a Bateau-Mouche
Upon its riverbanks I saw from me
This city noted for its noveau art:
Alberta Street was Eizenstein's idea.

The Reval Hotel top reveals
Weather cocks on timeworn churches;
The fine cathedral's five cupolas
Are gleaming gold as the sun sets.

Their Cardinal in his purple cap
On the altar steps for mid-day mass;
The silent Luthern pews for prayer,
Greek Orthodox weddings in pairs.

By our restaurant in Doma Square
Smoothly pass the Cadillac cars,
Bouncing along the cobblestones;
A happy girl goes home with flowers.