The Poems of Emma Lazarus Volume II Part 41

Like to a flower does he bloom and pa.s.s, He fadeth like a vision of the night.

The surging floods of life around him roar, Death feeds upon him, pity is no more, To others all his riches he gives o'er, And dieth in the middle hour of night.

Crushed by the burden of my sins I pray, Oh, wherefore shunned I not the evil way?

Deep are my sighs, I weep the livelong day, And wet my couch with tears night after night.

My spirit stirs, my streaming tears still run, Like to the wild birds' notes my sorrows' tone, In the hushed silence loud resounds my groan, My soul arises moaning in the night.

Within her narrow cell oppressed with dread, Bare of adornment and with grief-bowed head Lamenting, many a tear her sad eyes shed, She weeps with anguish in the gloomy night.

For tears my burden seem to lighten best, Could I but weep my heart's blood, I might rest.

My spirit bows with mighty grief oppressed, I utter forth my prayer within the night.

Youth's charm has like a fleeting shadow gone, With eagle wings the hours of life have flown.

Alas! the time when pleasure I have known, I may not now recall by day or night.

The haughty scorn pursues me of my foe, Evil his thought, yet soft his speech and low.

Forget it not, but bear his purpose so Forever in thy mind by day and night.

Observe a pious fast, be whole again, Hasten to purge thy heart of every stain.

No more from prayer and penitence refrain, But turn unto thy G.o.d by day and night.

HE SPEAKS: "My son, yea, I will send thee aid, Bend thou thy steps to me, be not afraid.

No nearer friend than I am, hast thou made, Possess thy soul in patience one more night."

FROM THE "DIVAN."

My thoughts impelled me to the resting-place Where sleep my parents, many a friend and brother.

I asked them (no one heard and none replied): "Do ye forsake me, too, oh father, mother?"

Then from the grave, without a tongue, these cried, And showed my own place waiting by their side.

LOVE SONG OF ALCHARISI.

I.

The long-closed door, oh open it again, send me back once more my fawn that had fled.

On the day of our reunion, thou shalt rest by my side, there wilt thou shed over me the streams of thy delicious perfume.

Oh beautiful bride, what is the form of thy friend, that thou say to me, Release him, send him away?

He is the beautiful-eyed one of ruddy glorious aspect--that is my friend, him do thou detain.

II.

Hail to thee, Son of my friend, the ruddy, the bright-colored one!

Hail to thee whose temples are like a pomegranate.

Hasten to the refuge of thy sister, and protect the son of Isaiah against the troops of the Ammonites.

What art thou, O Beauty, that thou shouldst inspire love? that thy voice should ring like the voices of the bells upon the priestly garments?

The hour wherein thou desireth my love, I shall hasten to meet thee.

Softly will I drop beside thee like the dew upon Hermon.

NACHUM.

SPRING SONGS.

I.

Now the dreary winter's over, Fled with him are grief and pain, When the trees their bloom recover, Then the soul is born again.

Spikenard blossoms shaking, Perfume all the air, And in bud and flower breaking, Stands my garden fair.

While with swelling gladness blest, Heaves my friend's rejoicing breast.

Oh, come home, lost friend of mine, Scared from out my tent and land.

Drink from me the spicy wine, Milk and must from out my hand.

Cares which hovered round my brow, Vanish, while the garden now Girds itself with myrtle hedges, Bright-hued edges Round it lie.

Suddenly All my sorrows die.

See the breathing myrrh-trees blow, Aromatic airs enfold me.

While the splendor and the glow Of the walnut-branches hold me.

And a balsam-breath is flowing, Through the leafy shadows green, On the left the ca.s.sia's growing, On the right the aloe's seen.

Lo, the clear cup crystalline, In itself a gem of art, Ruby-red foams up with wine, Sparkling rich with froth and bubble.