Joseph Friedlander, comp. The Standard Book of Jewish Verse. 1917.
By Morris RosenfeldThe Jewish May
M
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.
With her paint-brush Spring is seen
In the valley, by the rillside,
All the earth is decked with green.
Once again the sun beguiles—
Moves the drowsy world to smiles.
See! the sun with mother-kiss
Wakes her child to joy and bliss.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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!