The rich ones on feasting are busily set,
And such as are pious, you well may believe
Have no time to spare on the gay Sabbath eve.
So no one had noticed and no one has seen,
And now comes the night-fall and with it serene,
The Princess, the Sabbath, from Heaven descends,
And all the gay throng to the synagogue wends.
Within where they pray, all is cleanly and bright;
The cantor sings sweetly, they list with delight.
But why in a dream stands the tall chandelier,
As dim as the candles that gleam round a bier?
The candles belonged to the woman you know
Who died in the street but a short time ago.
The rich and the pious have brought them tonight
For mother and child they have set them alight.
The rich and the pious their duty have done,
Her tapers are lighted who died all alone.
The rich and the pious are nobly behaved:
A body-what matters? But souls must be saved!
O synagogue lights, be ye witnesses bold,
That mother and child died of hunger and cold
Where millions are squandered in idle display;
That men all unheeded, must starve by the way.
Then hold back your flame, blessed lights hold it fast!
The great day of judgment will come at last.
Before the white throne, where imposture is vain,
Ye lights for the soul, ye'll be lighted again!
And upward your flame there shall mount as on wings,
And damn the existing false order of things.
The Jewish May
MAY has come from out the showers,
Sun and splendor in her train.
All the grasses and the flowers
Waken up to life again.
Once again the leaves do show
And the meadow's blossoms blow,
Once again through hills and dales
Rise the songs of nightingales.
Wheresoe'er on field and hillside, With her paint-brush Spring is seen In the valley, by the rillside,
All the earth is decked with green. Once again the sun beguilesMoves the drowsy world to smiles. See! the sun with mother-kiss Wakes her child to joy and bliss.
Now each human feeling presses
Flower like, upward to the sun,
Softly through the heart's recesses
Steal sweet fancies one by one.
Golden dreams their wings outshaking
Now are making
Realms celestial
All of azure New life waking
Bringing treasure
Out of measure
For the soul's delight and pleasure. Who then, tell me, old and sad,
Nears us with a heavy tread On the sward in verdure clad, Lonely is the strange newcomer; Wearily he walks and slow, His sweet springtime and his summer Faded long and long ago.
Say, who is it yonder walks
Past the hedgerows decked anew,
While a fearful spectre stalks
By his side thy woodland through
'Tis our ancient friend the Jew!
No sweet fancies hover round him,
Naught but terror and distress;
Wounds unhealed
Where lie revealed
Ghosts of former recollections,
Corpses, corpses, old affections,
Buried youth and happiness.
Bier and blossom bow to meet him
In derision round his path;
Gloomily the hemlocks greet him
And the crow screams out in wrath.
Strange the birds and strange the flowers,
Strange the sunshine seems and dim,
Folk on earth and heavenly powers!-
Lo, the May is strange to him.
Little flowers, it were meeter,
If ye made not quite so bold;
Sweet ye are, but oh, far sweeter
Knew he in the days of old.
Oranges by thousands blowing
Filled his groves on either hand,
All the plants were God's own sowing
In his far-off happy land.
Ask the cedars on the mountain,
Ask them for they know him well!
Myrtles green by Sharon's fountain
In whose shade he loved to dwell.
Ask the Mount of Olives beauteous,—
Ev'ry tree by ev'ry stream,
One and all will answer duteous
For the fair and ancient dream.
O'er the desert and the pleasance
Gales of Eden softly blew,
And the Lord His loving Presence
Evermore declared anew.
Angel children at their leisure,
Played in thousands round His tent Countless thoughts of joy and pleasure Go to His beloved sent.
There in bygone days and olden
From a wonderous harp and golden
Charmed he music spirit-haunting,
Holy, chaste and soul-enchanting;
Never with the ancient sweetness,
Never in its old completeness
Shall it sound; his dream is ended
On a willow bough suspended.
Gone that dream so fair and fleeting!
Yet behold; thou dreamst anew;
Hark a new May gives thee greeting
From afar. Dost hear it Jew?
Weep no more, although with sorrows
Bow'd e'en to the grave; I see
Happier years and brighter morrows
Dawning, Israel, for thee!
Hear'st thou not the promise ring
Where, like doves on silvery wing,
Thronging cherubs sweetly sing,
New made songs of what shall be?
Hark! your olives shall be shaken
And your citrons and your limes
Filled with fragrance. God shall waken,
Lead you as in olden times;
In the pastures by the river
Ye once more your flocks shall tend,
Ye shall live and live forever
Happy lives that know no end.
No more wandering, no more sadness;
Peace shall be your lot and still,
Hero hearts shall throb with gladness
'Neath Moriah's silent hill.
Nevermore of dread affliction
Or oppression need ye tell,
Filled with joy and benediction
In the old home ye shall dwell.
To the fatherland returning
Following the homeward path,
Ye shall find the embers burning
Still upon the ruined hearth!
"The Light in the Eyes"
The light of the eyes rejoiceth the heart-Proverbs XV, 30.
And mine heart walked after mine eyes-Job xxxi, 7.
S down the age he shambles, gaunt and gray,
With sorry gait, nor one to bid him stay,
We mark what man to brother man may do.
The shrivelled skin, the Ghetto-gotten hue,
Time's Tragedy writ large upon his face
The old, world-weary epic of his race;
-Yet see, he lifts his head and we surprise
Some strange swift light of laughter in his eyes.
On shoulders still the burden and the smart,
While Hope fights hard to live in Jewish heart,
Yet not for him the Bitterness and Gall
Though Grief stalk with him to the Wailing Wall,
Give him a crumb of joy, and, boyish-wise,
There leaps the light of laughter to his eyes.
The crying of wild voices in the night,
The curses and the struggle and the flight,
The Bloody Hand of Spain, the Cossack's breath,
The Sacrifice at York, the Dance to Death;
As fiend hath done so fiend will still devise,
-Through all persists brave laughter-light in eyes.
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