You

A Purim Poem

OU know the tale of Queen Esther,
The Queen so well named the "Star-
And of Mordecai, humble and faithful,
Who guided her life from afar;
Not alone with your lips, dear children,
The beautiful story re-tell-

Let your hearts learn the lesson so noble,
Till the story be yours as well.

Long, long ago lived Queen Esther!
But you must be Esthers too,
You maidens with eyes so thoughtful,
Who bear the proud name of Jew!
With a heart that is faithful and fearless,
And a trust that is sacred and strong,
You must stand for the right, though you suffer—
You must battle against the wrong.

And you boys with hearts a-flaming

With the dawn of your manhood's might,
Remember how Mordecai humble

Stood firm for his faith-and the right!
How, clad in sackcloth and ashes,
As he sat in the dust by the gate,
Yet he pointed the way to Queen Esther
To suffer, and dare, and be great.

You know how the old story ended-
How Haman the dastard at last
Met the fate he had planned for another—
And Israel's danger was past!

But Israel needs now, as ever,

Strong hearts that are fearless and true—

And her honor that Mordecai guarded
Is left now, dear children, with you.

Be fearless! Nay, why should you falter,
When God ever guardeth the right?
Be loyal! The faith of your fathers

Hath shown through dark years like a light!. And if ever you tire in the struggle,

And the right seems o'ercome and afarThen remember the old Purim story,

The story of Esther the "Star."

Esther

ISABELLA R. HESS.

SWEET Jewish maid, crown'd with a mon

arch's love,

Thy gentle grace

Sought for no glory, for no sov'reign pow'r,
No pride of place.

"If thy handmaiden hath good favour found In the king's eyes,

Grant but my people's lives (e'en tho' I be
The sacrifice);

For we are sold, my people and myself,
To cruel foe.

How can I bear to see my kindred's wrong,
My race's woe?"

So thou art honoured and thy name shall live While Time shall be,

O queenly heart! Our homage and our love We bring to thee.

MA

FLORENCE WEISBERG.

Maid of Persia

AID of Persia, Myrtle named,
For thy graces rightly famed,
Esther, ours for evermore,

Queen to-day from oldest yore—
Ere we leave thee let thy grace
Linger with us for a space.

Israel's maidens be like thee,
Holding fast fidelity

To the cause of Israel,

That they yield not to the spell
Of the glitter and the gold
Shining in another fold.

Oh, our hearts are thine to-day
For the dread thou didst allay,
For the plot of Haman foiled
That our race was not despoiled,
For the worth of Mordecai
Who the plotters did defy.

Let thy spirit be our share
Through whatever lands we fare;
Mordecai and Esther be

Lord and queen eternally

In the heart of man and maid,
Making Israel unafraid.

Of "the foe that stalks by night,
Of the fowlers luring might,"
Of the envy and the hate
Which all centuries relate.
Maid of Juda, daughter dear,

Be thy spirit ever near.

HARRY WEISS.

Esther

A FACE more vivid than he dreamed who drew

Thy portrait in that thrilling tale of old! Dead queen, we see thee still, thy beauty cold As beautiful; thy dauntless heart which knew No fear, not even of a king who slew

At pleasure; maiden heart which was not sold, Though all the maiden flesh the king's red gold Did buy! The loyal daughter of the Jew,

No hour saw thee forget his misery;

Thou wert not queen until thy race went free; Yet thoughtful hearts, that ponder slow and deep, Find doubtful reverence at last for thee;

Thou heldest thy race too dear, thyself too cheap; Honor no second place for truth can keep.

HELEN HUNT JACKSON.

Purim

UEEN ESTHER-so the Scriptures say-
Fasted and prayed for many a day;
For Haman would her people slay,
On Purim.

Of her good deeds I need not tell,
Nor how she did the riots quell;
Suffice to know she felt quite well,
On Purim.

And Haman was straightway bereft
Of wealth acquired by fraud and theft;
In fact, he was quite badly left
On Purim.

This tale has run for quite a time,
And chestnut-cries may blast my rhyme,
Bad verse, howe'er, is not a crime,
On Purim.

And many things we never do,
And many sights we seldom view,
Are done and seen-enjoyed, too,
On Purim.

The ultra-rabbi, now the style,
And th' old-time rabbi without guile,
May greet each other with a smile,
On Purim.

The pious man, religion's prop,
Who lectures when and how to stop,
May take, himself, an extra drop,
On Purim.

The youth who does for "Ethics" pine,
And of our Faith says: ""Tis not mine,"
Is, strange enough, well up in line
On Purim.

And editors, who never pray,

Who "squeech" each other every day,
Put hate and rancor far away,
On Purim.

The rich relax, the poor receive,
The mourners smile and cease to grieve,
And all our misdeeds we retrieve (?)
On Purim.

Long live Queen Esther's glorious fame;
For Jews in practice, Jews in name,
All seem to get there, just the same,
On Purim.

LABEL.

In Shushan

I

O'ER lordly Shushan's terrac'd walls

The starry cloak of midnight falls,
And naught doth break the solemn spell
Save the soft note of Philomel,

Or some faint fountain's silvery tongue
Lulling the gardens with its song.
The yellow moon doth rule the sky
And gild the dark-blue dome on high,
And o'er the marble stairways cold
A robe of tissue, woof'd with gold,