Mrs. Ellis A. Franklin

T was not granted to her she should lead

IT

A mighty cause or grace a learned throng, The humbler task was hers; she lived among Her children and she taught them to succeed To her inheritance of faith and deed.

And what she wrought, unwitting of all wrong,
Unwitting of her worth, she let belong

To others, and to others left the meed.
The tower to its eminence on high

Would not have risen at the author's will
Alone; those who builded it may die,

The name of the designer never will.

So those whose fame and work no records hold
Inspire the deeds that live for time untold.

ANONYMOUS.

Oscar Cohen

OH, that death should lay thee low,

With thy fame not zenith high!—
Ah, the pity that the foe

Should have thought thee ripe to die!

Like the greatest one of old

Moses, strong of heart and hand-
Thou hast led thy wandering fold
Onward to the promised land.

Stranger to thy creed and race,
Alien to the older Word,
Yet I loved thee! On thy face
Shone the glory of the Lord.

H. B. GAYFER.

LE

Leo N. Levi

ET no lament break forth but rather sing Hosannas to the Everlasting King; Let Hallelujahs everywhere resound And animate the newly hallowed ground Where lovingly a garland we may place To symbolize the homage of his race. No wringing hands, nor shrill-voiced grief shall lift Our hero from his consecrated crypt;— If ye would truly honor him, who bore The ensign of the fathers to the fore, Then follow on, and raise the battle-flag, And hasten on each footstep that would lag. Unfold forsooth the ancient standard, and Obey our leader's clarion-toned command.

GEORGE ALEXANDER KOHUT.

Esther J. Ruskay

WE meet to-day to call upon thy name,

WE

With wistful eyes to contemplate and trace Each feature of thy well-remembered face; And as we light the faint memorial flame To hear above the cadence of our prayer The brush of wings across the tranquil air, As though thy radiant spirit rustled there;— To see thee once again, ere yet we go

Our devious ways, unmindful of the gloom, And know that though we robed thee for the tomb Thou livest yet, transfigured and aglow,

In far-off fields of fragrant asphodel,

Where seraphs and thy starry kindred dwell—

Revered and loved and mourned in Israel.

GEORGE ALEXANDER KOHUT.

DEE

Joseph Mayor Asher

EEP be thy sleep, brave Prophet-Priest of God!
Thy spirit-wars are waged, and tranquil now-
The laurel of our homage on thy brow-
Thou dreamest; whilst we whisper overawed,
And name thee in our hearts, and deep and low
Say Kaddish o'er thy cerements of snow.
Thine be the peace of God, great, restless heart!
No more shall wound thee Israel's native woe;
No more shall strive against thee friend or foe;
Thou art our stern-eyed seer-the counterpart
Of Amos and Elijah, blent in one.

Our kindred sense perceives thee, and we trace
The Saintliness of Ages on thy face,

Now that thy work is gloriously done.

GEORGE ALEXANDER KOHUT.

Louis Loeb

HINE was a poet's soul; thine was a heart

THINE

Where love and friendship, truth and right

abode.

Hebraic rhapsody and Grecian ode

Surged in thy blood. Nature stood not apart;

With gracious smile she wedded thee to Art;
The seeing eye, the wizard touch bestowed,
Into thy brain her forms and colors flowed,
Transfixed by Inspiration's flaming dart.
Sweet were the idylls by the genius wooed:

The misty dawn, bright morning, radiant noon,
The joyous life, the forests' solitude,—
And peaceful reverie. Thine now the boon
Of bearing a full sheaf, through struggles rude,
Into the twilight's vale,-but all too soon.

LOUIS MARSHALL.

Josef Israels

WHEN the fisher-folk of the Netherland coast

On perilous cruises sped,

When the howling wind and the swirling foam A message of danger read—

There was one to measure the dread of the sea For the helpless women then,

Whose bread was found on the crest of the wave
By the sturdy fishermen.

There was one to read the cry of the heart
As it sobbed to the lonely stone,

On the mound of the man who came no more,
Who left her all alone-

Alone to the wind and the sea and the storm

That had claimed their murderous fill; Alone to the break of the taunting deep And a cottage void and still.

There was one to sound the plumb of despair
In the wandering martyr race

That flies with the wind in the fearful round
Of an everlasting chase;

To note the patient shoulder shrug,

The pathos of mind and eye,

In the form of the man with the mortal wounds, Who yet disdained to die.

Be good to the soul of the master, Lord,
Who limned with a deathless hand,
The woes of the men whose mettle you try-
The waifs of the sea and the land.

Be good to his artist soul, O Lord,

For he ate of the bread of tears

And drank from the bitter cup of those
Who count the leaden years.

ELIAS LIEBERMAN.

Phédre

TO SARAH BERNHARDT

HOW vain and dull this common world must seem

To such a One as thou, who should'st have

talked

At Florence with Mirandola, or walked
Through the cool olives of the Academe;

Thou should'st have gathered reeds from a green stream
For Goat-foot Pan's shrill piping, and have played
With the white girls in that Phæacian glade
Where grave Odysseus wakened from his dream.
Ah! surely once some urn of Attic clay

Held thy wan dust, and thou hast come again
Back to this common world so dull and vain,

For thou wert weary of the sunless day,
The heavy fields of scentless asphodel,

The loveless lips with which men kiss in Hell.

OSCAR WILde.

Mayer Sulzberger

'HE muse, that first lent grace to gratitude,

THE

Voicing a rhythmic prayer from thankful hearts, Long since, when passion lisped in accents crude, Nor knew its handmaid in this art of artsHas sounded many a measure through the days, In stately epic and in roundelays.

The sack of cities, the brave deeds of men,

The doom of Gods, the majesty of Kings; Strange mysteries beyond our earthly ken, And gentle fancy's sweet imaginingsThese have the poets woven into rhyme, To make the past throb in the present time. But I will weave the laurel of my rhyme To crown the living with an honor due; That one, who fearless in the trembling time Stands forth his people's bulwark, strong and true,