I Will Not Have You Think Me Less

I WILL not have you think me less

Than others of my faith,

Who live on a generous king’s largess,

Forsworn at every breath.

And if you deem my teachings true,

Reject them not with hate,

Because a minstrel sings to you

Who’s not of knight’s estate.

The fragrant, waving reed grows tall

From feeble root and thin,

And uncouth worms that lowly crawl

Most lustrous silk do spin.

Because beside a thorn it grows,

The rose is not less fair;

Though vine from gnarled branches flows,

’Tis sweet beyond compare.

The goshawk, know, can soar on high,

Yet low he nests his brood,

A Jew true precepts doth apply,

Are they therefore less good?

Some Jews there are with slavish mind

Who fear, are mute, and meek.

My soul to truth is so inclined

That all I feel I speak.

There often comes a meaning home

Through simple verse and plain,

While in the heavy, bulky tome

We find of truth no grain.

Full oft a man with furrowed front,

Whom grief hath rendered grave,

Whose views of life are honest, blunt,

Both fool is called and knave.