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.