[PS 3535 fl75 M5 1922 [Copy 1 Class Book. (^tZ. fopight}^?. CQEHBICHT DEFDSm WHEN A SOUL SINGS When a Soul Sings POEMS BY PHILIP M. RASKIN Author of "Songs of a Jew," "Songs of a Wanderer,' "Songs and Dreams," etc. ▼ New York THOMAS SELTZER 1922 -p^ Copyright, 1922, by Thomas Seltzeb, Inc. All rights reserved PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA ©C(.AGi>0084 NOV -8 1922 'WO I CONTENTS PAGE The Poet i Genius 2 In Pursuit 3 A Prayer 5 The Last Conquest 7 Progress 8 Stories 9 The Road 11 Far Away 12 Flowers 13 Sunset 14 Rain Through Sunshine 15 Beauty 16 Sunshine 17 Night 18 Give Me Your Hand 19 The Breezes 20 Waves 22 I Will Stay Out 23 Rivals 24 The Secret 26 A Flower-Soul 27 The Song of the Storm 29 A Flower-field in Tennessee .... 32 V PAGE Woman 34 A Wager 35 Stella 36 Heredity 37 In a Car 38 Is Love Restful? 40 Once She Was 41 What Has Become of the Rose? ... 42 A Short Life 44 Unconsolable 45 Just a Drop of Rain 46 Toys 47 Happiness 48 My Days 49 The Big Fall 50 Courage 51 A Wounded Eagle 52 Apologia 54 Why? 56 Can You? 58 My Boat 59 The City 60 Uninvited 62 In a Summer Night 63 A Jewish Mother 65 Eastern Lullaby 67 Lovers 68 Nothing More 70 Love 71 A Spark from a Window * 72 yi PAGE Lilies That Fade 73 Worth While 74 For the Messiah The Four Points The Book "Elul" A Jealous God My God White and Blue To Our Pioneers A Semite ^ The Song of the Peddler 9i Exile ^^ The Esrog ^^ The Peddler-Prince 97 Messiah 76 81 82 84 85 86 87 88 99 vu THE POET There is an hour of twilight — Half gloom, half light ; And in that hour the heaven And earth unite. And in that hour whoever Of God is worth Can clasp a piece of heaven And stay on earth. One day I watched the sunset In trance sublime, And heard a distant echo **Now is the time!" And straight came down from heaven A glowing dart, And pierced with heaven's fire My earthly heart. Since then my heart in twilight To light gives birth, SincQ then I fire with heaven Men's hearts on earth. GENIUS If I were to name what is nameless within me, The uttermost, intimate, infinite in me, That moves me and thrills me, my blood sets on fire, And kindles with passion my will, my desire. That gives my soul wings that it may in its flight Bring heaven to earth from the uppermost height ; If I were to name that mysterious power That makes me see worlds in a dewdrop or flower, That makes me behold in to-day's sun-lit morn The gold and the crystal of mornings unborn ; That lets me decipher the tongue of the wave. And bids me see life sprouting forth from the grave; The force that gives meaning to objects around. That I might express them in word and in sound, The riddle of genius — that gift from above — One name I would give it — and that would be love! IN PURSUIT I will run after youth in its vanishing wake, I w^ill run, and maybe, I will youth overtake, I will beg it and pray : Oh stay with me, stay One more spring, one more day. For dismal like autumn, and cold is, in truth, A life void of youth. I will run to my dreams on their vanishing track, I perchance will persuade them to come to me back. I will say: stay a while. And just frolic and smile, Life is dry, life is vile — And of life but a blossomless desert is left Of dreams when bereft. I will run after faith — that mysterious boat, That has kept me of yore on the life-sea afloat ; I will say in my grief To my childhood's belief. See, a tempest-tossed leaf I am cast up and down without purpose or goal With a God-empty soul. 3 I will run after love that is stealing away, And, unbaring my heart, will entreat it to stay. Oh, how can you depart From such love-yearning heart. When you are not a part Of myself, but the whole, yea the whole, just the whole Of my body and soul ! . . . A PRAYER God, hast known me When I was a lad; Did I anger Thee? . Was I ever bad? Did I fight or tease Like the other boys? All my mates were trees, Flowers were my toys. And my mates were good. And my toys gave joy, For the field and wood Loved the dreamy boy. God, it may seem strange I should doubt Thy plan, But what made Thee change Boy into a man ? Can I keep up pace With the street and mart, I — a man by face, And a child by heart ? 5 Look how men around Pass me mute and cold, I with golden sound, They with sound of gold. Am I made to hate? Was I ever wild? God, if not too late — Make me back a child. . THE LAST CONQUEST I dreamt I scaled a mountain peak, A giant there I stood ; I heard a voice within me speak That thrilled my blood. "Oh cast your glances wide and far, As far as you can see, Behold the sky, the moon, the star, The land and sea. "Behold the triumphs of your mind — The heights and peaks you scaled, The hearts of rocks, the oceans blind, Their mysteries unveiled. "The conquered space, the harnessed light, The waves transmitting sound ; You struggled and you won the fight, You sought and found. "You catalogued each star, each sun, Like volumes on a shelf ; One conquest more — and you have done — The conquest of yourself. ..." PROGRESS Through night and through storm we are slowly emerging From the black sea of life that around us is surging. Be Prometheus still bound to the rock of his fate, The flame he brought down a new dawn will create. Be the earth still engulfed in the shadow of night — Love will be victor, and triumph will light. The seed sown today a future day gathers; The sun of the son is brighter than father's. The smiles that today are drowned in our tears Are turned into pearls in the ocean of years. STORIES Oh Grandmother, tell me The tale of the maiden Whom pirates hold captive And chained in a cave, The years keep on rolling, But faithful her lover The vs^ide world is roaming His sweetheart to save. Oh tell me the story — The witch and her caldron, And dragons emerging, Enormous and wild ; But one day when finding A babe in the bushes, The brutes become cherubs And rescue the child. Oh tell me the story — The maiden whom witchcraft Once turned to a vampire Who men did ensnare, But many years later When meeting her lover — The hag became woman, And womanly fair. 9 Oh tell me the story — The beautiful orphan Whose stepmother cruel Left lone in a wood ; How tigers and lions Have shielded the baby, And nursed her, and taught her The human and good. Oh Grandmother, tell me The stories of childhood, Where good conquers evil And foe yields to friend ; In life too I oft hear These wonderful stories — But hear their beginning — Alas, not their end ! lO THE ROAD Heave no sigh for things undone, For the prize you might have v\^on ; Don't bev^^ail the yester-sun; All your yesterdays are gone — Gone! Are you ready for today? Roads are stretching far away ; You will stumble, you will stray, You will have to pay your way — Payl Mate thy stafE and guide thy star ; Bush or stone be not thy bar ; How we fight is what we are; Let your aim be onward far — Far! II FAR AWAY Far away, far away, where the cloud meets the sea, There are heaven-hid treasures for you and for me ; On that emerald isle where the sun never sets. Where the heart all the wrongs of our earth-life forgets, Far away, on that golden-lit isle in the East No serpent of envy, no jealousy-beast Will ever endanger our peaceful abode. But stormy and long to that isle is the road. For to reach that fair isle we onward must go, We must heed not the ebb, and must fear not the flow, And thfe mist and the gale we must greet with a smile. For none but the fearless inhabit that isle. 12 FLOWERS Stretches of violet, daisy and pansy, Primrose and poppy — I see from afar ; Do not the angels look downward and fancy Earth is illumined with rainbow and star? God made them all when He felt in good humor- Star-spangled heaven and flower-decked sod, That is why passing a field in the summer I see the smile of a satisfied God. 13 SUNSET Here I stand by the shore all alone, all alone, And I watch the sun die in yon dim-growing zone ; Watch the ringlets of gold fall and melt in the stream, Pale and lone I look on, as I dream my sad dream. Do I pity the day to eternity gone? Do I fear that black raven — the night coming on ? Do I hear in the wind — in its cold-throbbing breath The sad echo of fate that is murmuring : death ! Do I see in the sunset my youth's dying beam ? Pale and lone I look on, and I dream my sad dream. 14 RAIN THROUGH SUNSHINE Rain through sunshine . . . Blue and deep Girlish skies that smile and weep ; Waft their bubbled magic rings — Pearly beads on opal strings — From a cherub's wings. Rain through sun . . . From skyey eaves Crystals fall on blades and leaves, Down the rivulet and spring Playing in a golden ring In the breeze aswing. Rain through sunshine . . . Wide and far Bead on bead and star on star — Little fairies blue and white Bathe in streams of molten light — Silver-winged and bright. Rain through sun . . . On high, behold, Floats a ladder steeped in gold ; I will climb it . . . one by one Scale its rungs and reach the sun — ^ Ere my day is done. . . . 15 BEAUTY I was waylaid by beauty ... the forest around, The vales and the mountains above, Were aglow and athrill with bloom and with sound And breathing with life and with love . . . I was waylaid by beauty . . . My heart standing still, Enraptured with wonder and glee; The flocks — little elves — gliding down from the hill, The valley — a phosphor-lit sea. . . I was waylaid by beauty . . . Then saw the sun hide, As it mantled the earth in dark-grey . . . And I bitterly cried for the day that had died, For the beauty that lived but a day . . . i6 SUNSHINE I hopped out of bed this morning, With the dawn I was awake ; And the sun without a warning Caught and brought me to the lake. Here I watch the sky begilding Silver waves with golden beams, And my heart is building, building Golden castles of my dreams. Here I watch the golden fishes As they frightless shoreward dart, And my golden hopes and wishes Dart like fishes in my heart. Nest with nest in song are meeting, Bird to bird is giving word ; And my heart I hear repeating All the bird songs like a bird. Rills are laughing, trees are glowing ; I am young, and strong, and proud Trees are glowing, I am growing — One day I shall reach the cloud. 17 NIGHT The moon with fairy fingers Has touched my ear and eye; A phantom song and singers I hear and see on high. On every path and turn The fairies of the night Are shedding from an urn A purple-perfumed light. And fragrance-full and free is The blue expanse around, And audible to me is Each breath of silent sound. And gaily-melancholy A voice from star to star Calls: holy! holy! holy! Through spaceless space afar. i8 GIVE ME YOUR HAND . . . Give me your hand — let us wander, Roaming past rivers and streams; Somewhere, they tell me, a streamlet Murmurs of beautiful dreams. Give me your hand — let us wander High up the mountains above, Somewhere a rill from a mountain Flows with perennial love. Give me your hand — let us wander Far where the night-breezes blow; Maybe to us they will whisper Where fadeless the youth-blossoms grow. Give me your hand — let us wander — Yond the horizon seems fair, Happiness somewhere is hiding — Some day we may find out where. . . . 19 THE BREEZES Shall I tell you why the breezes I do know so well ? If you promise that my secret You shall never tell. In my heart once bloomed a garden Watered from above, In that garden grew a lily Men on earth call love. But one day the evening breezes Plucked my lily fair, Then I caught and made the breezes Promise me and swear That they would its seed and blossoms Scatter far apart So that little fragrant lilies Grow in many a heart. Now when twilight comes they gather — For they kept their oath — And they whisperingly tell me Of my lily's growth. 20 How In hearts with grief overgrown And bestrewn with care, Little lilies weed our worries Growing sweet and fair. This is why I know the breezes Of the field and grove, For they tell me of my lily Men on earth call love. . . 21 WAVES Here I stand and watch the main — And how strangely it behaves ! Wave is chasing wave in vain — Who can tell the play of waves ? Why this hurry and this strife? Whither thou, oh nameless wave? Is the sea thy source of life? Is it thy abysmal grave? Am I, wave, of thee a part? Or art thou a part of me? Is the sea a human heart? Or my heart — a human sea? 22 I WILL STAY OUT I will stay out till morning, The moon is on the sea, I will stay out till morning. The moon is good to me. The moon can tell a story, The moon can sing a song Of moon-lit nights once cherished, Of nights forgotten long. I will stay out till morning Until the sun arrives — Not every night is moon-night. Not every dream survives. (On the Aquitania near France) 23 RIVALS Yes, I love you, But you have rivals — Of my shipvirrecked youth survivals. Flovirers Born in twilight hours, When heaven w^oos and wins our earth, Who from their birth Live half way 'Twixt plant and fay — I love them, for I know them well. And many a charming tale These little rainbows of the vale To me in childhood used to tell. Stars Across the azure bars. That often waylaid me by night, And lifted me from off the sod On stairs of pale-blue light Towards the garden-paths of God. . . . Larks, These purple sparks Darting through the air. Light, and blithe, and fair, 24 Pouring out from their bosom Raptured rhapsodies of blossom, And shaking off their wing A new-born spring. . . Woods In all their moods Of dawn, and dusk, and light, and shade. With hue of leaf and bloom, and blade. Rills Oozing through the hills — Blood from the heart of a rocky giant, And defiant Running amock by field and glen— ^ To gladden hearts of men. Yes, these are your rivals — and many more In sky, in air, on main and shore. To them too I shall remain true, For no new love my love for them can stem; And if your pride Be satisfied — You may share my love with them. 25 THE SECRET Fleeter than sunbeam Swifter than lightning, Faster than arrow Ever can dart Travels the message Wordless, unspoken, Lover sends lover. Heart sends to heart. Be it unsounded. Be it unuttered. Be it unwhispered Fearing the crowd, — Towers and mountains. Deserts and oceans Take up their secret, Shout it aloud. 26 A FLOWER-SOUL I had a baby sister Who scarcely yet could walk, And "Mum, I luve the gaiden" Was almost all her talk. It was a brilliant summer, Our garden blossomed fair, And every God-lit morning I found the baby there. She played with little pansies Stead little girls and boys, She loved the little pansies — Her playmates and her toys. Then Autumn came with showers, With chill and sullen skies; My darling baby sister Forever closed her eyes. The pansies, too, were faded, The garden stood in shade; But lo! one single pansy Refused to pale and fade. 27 It bloomed as in the summer, It grew and glowed and smiled- I knew it was my sister — The soul of a flower-child. 28 THE SONG OF THE STORM Have you ever heard the tale Of the birth of Mighty Gale? Once a son of the Above Cloud the Proud With a daughter of the sea Wave the Free Fell in love. Now the sky Is bright and high, And the sea is deep and rich, But the oldest — which? As to this the sky and sea Never could agree. So the parents did object To the bride and groom elect, And the sea Ordered daughter Wave never hence To see Master Cloud Vainly proud — Whose attentions gave offence. 29 But man in love is undismayed, And brave in love — a lovely maid, — • So, When the skies Closed their eyes. And the deep Fell asleep; Cloud and Wave Would behave As young lovers free and gay. Flirting she w^ould run away; He vs^ith laughter Would run after. Till he caught her And he brought her And he made her stay. Then he faced her And embraced her Till his shaggy head vv^ould rest On her heaving foam-M^hite breast — Thus they played till break of day. But at night when the winds you hear weep, While the thunders are laughing aloud. Sky and Sea are aroused from their sleep. And are searching for Wave and for Cloud. As they find their children missing, And detect them playing, kissing Hidden from all sight, 30 Straight the aged Grow enraged, And begin to fight. The Sky gathers crowds Of lightning-girt clouds, And orders them out to the shore; Through creeks and through caves The sea sends her waves — And Heaven and Sea are at war. The armies engaging Are threatening, raging, To chaos the world to transform, And people in terror Call always in error This heavenly warfare — a storm. 3J A FLOWER FIELD IN TENNESSEE I came to the end of a Ian( In a village in Tennessee, And lo ! by the road in a vale I gazed on a flowery sea! Fair as fancy Violet, pansy, Daffodil, daisy, Wild and mazy! Green, white, yellow. Velvety-mellow, Posy on posy, Ruby and rosy — Thousands of them! Thousands of them! Poppies all over. Hyacinth, clover. Field-wide scattered. Sky-bespattered, Sun-besprinkled, Pearly-wrinkled, Bending, turning, Glowing, burning — Thousands of them ! Thousands of them ! 32 Snow-like drifted, Heads uplifted, Sway and rollick, Play and frolic, Gay as starlings. Sun-kissed darlings, Frisking, waving. Sun-light craving. Thousands of them ! Thousands of them ! Tall and taller, Changing color. Rippling streamlets. Strewn with beamlets. Swaying, winding. Color-blinding, Light as air is — Dancing fairies — Fairies of the vale. 33 WOMAN I sail in a silvery sea, Each heave of the breeze — a caress; Will she come, will she come to me? — My heart is whispering: yes! A woman's heart, like the sea, Is changing with ebb and with flow ; Will she come, will she come to me? — My heart is whispering : no ! 34 A WAGER My heart and my mind made a wager; The heart said: to her he shall go; The mind, an experienced stager — Said: no! I could not decide, but for whiling Away the long hour — watched the sun; It set all aglow and all smiling — The heart won! 35 STELLA Her voice so sweet and mellow Protection sought from rain, So under my umbrella I took her 'cross the lane. I am a bashful fellow, Can well myself restrain, But under the umbrella — Of course, I tried in vain. I kissed her. To my sorrow, She left me in disdain ; But on the sunny morrow I Stella met again. I shamed to speak to Stella, But she just asked me plain : "Why have you no umbrella?— It may begin to rain.'* . . . 36 HEREDITY I wooed her — and lost her; he scorned her — and won her, Now when I think of it — perhaps she was right ; She would have offspring brawny, sturdy. With steely muscle and sinew tight. To climb an oak or shoot ^n eagle ; Be lost in the forest without a guide ; Dig caves in a creek, and in a canoe Plow the waves and laugh at the tide. Mine would have been with brain-stuff and soul-stuff, Mind-diggers, pale, with dreamy eyes; I wooed her — and lost her; he scorned her and won her. Now when I think of it — perhaps she was wise. 37 IN A CAR The night was without a star. . . The trees were crouching in pain. . . It was beginning to rain — I boarded a car. A solitary woman sat in the car Huddled up in a heavy coat; The tram heaved up and down like a boat; The woman's gaze was vacant and far. I sat opposite her- Our eyes met. She was not fair — And yet — At that moment she was to me very dear, And it seemed to me that she guessed All that my soul had oppressed in years long gone- And was ready to give me her hand — What wonder; a woman, she could understand! And if my word be true, There was a moment, too. When I was ready to put my head Into her lap, and shed 38 All the tears That have for years Been waiting in my breast To escape and to give me rest. . . The prayer of her gazes I heard, Yet dared not breathe a word, Nor even a smile to exchange. Alas, so near and yet so strange! And suddenly the car stopped and she was gone, And I was left alone. . . . 39 IS LOVE RESTFUL? She stood in the cornfield — a queen of Eve's daughters, Around her the field all ablaze. The blue lake behind with its clear, limpid waters As dreamy and calm as her gaze. I asked if she knew for the traveler a haven Where night could be restfully spent; She looked in my eyes — at my hair black as raven ; And pointed in smiles to her tent. Her floor was with violets decked and narcisses, Her canvas as white as her breast; And, burning beneath her passionate kisses, I asked her if love can give rest. . . . 40 ONCE SHE WAS (To K. S.) Once she was the fairest lily In the garden of my dreams, And I drank her perfume stilly, As a lily — heaven's beams ; Then drew autumn dim and chilly Freezing summer streams. Autumn drew — I needed fuel, Cold my heart had grown, forsooth ; And again my garden's jewel Came and brought the scent of youth- Spring's revival, love's renewal — Faith in life and truth. Yes, she came, and her arrival, Like the fabled magic ring. Touched my heart with Love's revival. Made my soul of youth to sing, Made a snowy head to rival With a heart of Spring. . . . 41 WHAT HAS BECOME OF THE ROSE? (Serenade) What has become of the rose, When summer-days close? I asked what became of the rose; But your lips when I saw Like a spring-blossom glow — I knew what became of the rose. Where is, oh where is the lark In winter-nights dark? I asked what became of the lark; But your voice when I heard Like the trill of a bird — I knew what became of the lark. Where hides the sun's golden ray, When dead is the day? I searched for the sun's golden ray; But I looked at your hair All beam-woven fair — And I knew who had stolen the ray. 42 Where are the stars to be found That fall to the ground? I asked where the stars could be found ; But beholding your eyes, Like the star-jeweled skies — I knew where the stars could be found. Where is the peace and the rest That fled from my breast? I searched for my peace and my rest; But I thought of my sweet Whom I never shall meet, And I knew who had stolen my rest. 43 A SHORT LIFE See this lily of the vale, Frail and pale, Short its life, and yet its tale Is of love and duty. How its glorious life was spent Shedding scent. Making someone's heart content — What a life of beauty ! From the moment of its birth Joy and mirth, Sweetness pouring on God's earth From its fragrant bosom. Would that my life here were too Lily-true ; Who would mind to pass it through Fast as this pale blossom. 44 UNCONSOLABLE Do you see this lonesome flower In this autumn day, All alone in wind and shower Slowly fade away; Like an orphaned child forsaken, Pale and bent and frail, By the angry tempest shaken, Beaten by the hail. Cheer it not with future splendor. Breeze and dew and ray; What avails? The flower tender Will not see that day. 45 JUST A DROP OF RAIN Just a drop of rain Fell upon my pane, Crystal pure and clear As a baby's tear. "Mother, tell me why Does the heaven cry? Has it day or night Not enough of light ?" "Nay, my child, the sky Not for light does cry : Those who always shine Oft for darkness pine." 46 TOYS All of us are little boys, We are all in need of toys. Some will play at ''Free and Gay," Some will play at "Fast and Pray," Some will chance the highest stake For a pretty girl's sake ; Some will play at "Let us Think," Some will play at "Let us Drink," Some will talk and some will sing, Some will play "My Lord and King," Some will play at "Shoot and Slay," But whatever play we may — Mother Earth is calling: "Boys, Long enough you've made a noise. See, the sun has hid its head ; Say your prayers, and go to bed." 47 HAPPINESS A horde of blind beggars Ashiver with cold, Half starving, but jealous And greedy for gold. And passing a man plays A joke on the blind : '*A dollar I fling for Whoever vrill find." They w^riggle, they struggle. They fight on the ground ; While each thinks the other The treasure has found. 48 MY DAYS Thus comes my day, And thus it goes; We meet as friends, We part as foes. Each day comes in With promise sweet, Each day steals out — A cheat, a cheat ! The morn I bless, The eve I curse, . And never can I this reverse. 49 THE BIG FALL The mount of life is high ; The mud of life is thick; Some men fall down to die, And some still worse — to stick. But all are rolling down The fatal muddy slope; Some yell, some whine, some frown, Some grasp the reed of hope. . But saddest of it all — That to the very end. And while they fall and fall — They fancy they ascend. . . 50 COURAGE The raven night Spread out its wings O'er a starless sky And loaded the air With unfallen hail. Alone on the road, On the edge of a rock He listened to the moan Of the wind — or a beast. Something was crouching And crawling and whining In the heap of herbage By his side. He sat on the stone And whistled a tune. 51 A WOUNDED EAGLE I was young and proud; I was born eagle-winged and I flew High up in the ethereal blue Above the tower, above the cloud. . . . And when Looking down upon men, Their struggle and their strife. Their game called life — I saw The earth below Growing red or dark, I stole a spark From a sphere above — A spark of truth, or faith, or love. And flung it there and then Into the hearts of men, Enabling them to tread Their path of black and red. . . But once in my flights Through aerial heights, Fate, the hunter, shot a dart, And pierced my heart. 52 And bleeding I dropped down Into the crawling, struggling town. And ever since that fall On earth I crawl, A wounded eagle bound To man and ground — Since then my skies are shut. But eagle still, With wings though cut, My piercing eyes Still seek the skies, And search above For light and love. . . . 53 APOLOGIA The sky Is high, And fair though far, Its diamond sun, its golden star, Bejewel day and night. But dark and cold Is my lone room; No stars of gold Can drive its gloom ; Upon its wall So dank and damp The rays that fall From my dim lamp — By far, by far More precious are Than sun and star That shed a flood of light. The sea Is free. Profound and deep; Its wave, so brave when tempests sweep, In calm is turned to gold ; 54 But when my road Is far from town; My heavy load So weighs me down, Like molten ore The summer day, My foot is sore And long my way — A brook, a breeze Will far more please And give me ease Than ocean wide and bold. Our earth Has mirth, And love and bliss. And woman's lips are made to kiss, And blood is hot. But tired and lone The earth I tramp; Give them the sun. Give me the lamp; For them the hill. The gale, the foam. For me the rill — A peaceful home. No passion wild, No love defiled, — A wife, a child, A cottage and a cot. 55 WHY? Yes, I should like to know Why the hours go, And where they go, And why they carry away ^ Day by day Shreds of life? And why this rush, and hue, and strife. If I am born A tomb to adorn? Born in a lampless cave, A blind slave — To toil and moil, and wait for a grave? And why Should my eye See and yet not see? And my ear Hear And yet stay deaf? And what is this sound Around, Below, above, athwart the ground — Has this strange rhapsody a clef? And is there a guide to lead me? And is there a hand to feed me ? 56 Or has my food — Whether bad or good — No need of host or chef? And why should a heart like mine Pulse and throb, and long and pine, And love, and strive, and desire — To burn out in an ashen fire? And what is life itself? A dusty book on a shelf For some magician to decipher? A foolish riddle that at best Will in a trillion years be guessed, When brain with cell is rifer? A game of ball. Where players run and fall. But never score at all? . . . And as these questions I did ask Of life, its purpose and its task — I heard a voice within me speak — Life's only purpose is to seek. ST CAN YOU? Can you show me a path in the desert, Can you find in the desert a stream? Can you teach me to love amidst hatred, Not to lose in the darkness my dream ? Can you kindle a torch-light and guide me, As a mother would guide her dear child? Can you smile to me artlessly — truly As of yore in my youth you have smiled? May life's autumn have furrowed my fore- head — My heart is a fountain of youth; May falsehood be glittering gold-robed — My soul is a torch-light of truth. Can you gaze at me maidenly-purely, Can you be to me sisterly-near, Can you bring me a lily unpainted, And a word that unhurting will cheer ? S8 MY BOAT My buoyant youth is shipwrecked, And sunk beneath life's tide; Engulfed, too, is its cargo — My love — youth's jewelled pride. Around the waves are surging, But I still float along. Till pilot-death will save me-^ — I sail my raft of song. 59 THE CITY Gay is the city — My joy is gone ; Man-crowded alleys — Why am I lone ? Iron and marble — I miss the sod; Cloisters, cathedrals — Where is my God? Flower-complexions — City-wrought art. Bosoms are heaving — Where is a heart? Falsehood unfettered, Truth under ban, Man-heaps and brick-heaps — Lost is the man. Beautyless virtue — Passionless sin — Light on the surface — Darkness within. 60 Word is convention — Smile is but frown — Heaven the field made— Who made the tovrn? 6i UNINVITED Song and sunshine In the meadow, Breeze and fragrance in the vale; ''Why are you," she sadly whispers, "Why are you still lone and pale? Mother-earth with sheen and blossom Feasts again her day of birth ; Where is then your birth-gift, singer, Where your song of light and mirth ?" Dearest mine, a vagrant step-child I arrived here from the East, Homeless, friendless, uninvited To life's spring — its golden feast. Here my only mate is autumn — Sobbing gales and weeping skies ; Autumn through my breast is sighing, Autumn lurking in my eyes. Spring-tide finds me dull and silent. Frost in spring invades my breast; Lone I watch the feast of sunshine As an uninvited guest. 62 IN A SUMMER NIGHT I look out through my window Into the summer night, The avenues are blazing Alit with purple light. Each house — a magic tower, Each pane — a giant's eye ; Each lamp — a moon of crystal Suspended from on high. Mysterious gates are opened, In pairs the people stream, They smile, they talk in whispers- My heart can guess the theme. I dream these magic alleys Were lowered from above. For men to walk in beauty And harmony and love. But why that far commotion, That distant noise and hue? The urchins there are stoning An aged, bearded Jew. 63 I hear the urchins' laughter, I see the human stream; Gay couples smile and whisper — My heart can guess the theme. The magic alleys vanish ; With gloom my soul is filled; The peddler weeps unheeded — I too — my dream is killed. A JEWISH MOTHER Have you seen her eyes enkindled with a moon-lit solemn light, As she leans above her baby through the sleepless winter-night ? Have you heard her voice aquiver as she sings her cradle-song, As she praises heaven's mercy while decrying human wrong ? "Life is patience" is her maxim; "Live and wait" — she bids her boy; There is happiness in wisdom, in God's word — eternal joy. "Under your cradle is hid A pretty, a white little kid ; Under your cradle she dwells. Raisins and almonds she sells, Raisins and almonds you buy, Torah — God's law — from on high. Raisins and almonds are sweet, Torah will make you discreet, Wisdom and strength to you give, Teach you to suffer and live/' 65 See this tiny, fragile infant — gazelle eyes and hair of silk; Giant strength he is imbibing with each drop of mother's milk. Thus her mother-heart was fashioned by the centuries of wrong — Not a dove-heart half so tender, not a tigress half so strong. If you know the Jewish mother, then perchance you understand Why the Jew is death-defying, hunted though in every land. 66 EASTERN LULLABY Sleep, my little angel, sleep, Do not toss and do not weep. The night is deaf, the night is blind- Three nurses watch your cot behind — The sun, the eagle and the wind. Stays the eagle in his nest. Hides the sun beyond the west. All alone the wind does roam Over land and over foam; And to mother he comes home. Asks his mother: *'Where were you All these long, these cold nights through. Did you put out moon and star, Did you fight the waves afar?" "Nay, the waves I did not fight, Nor the stars put out by night. The night was robed in darkness deep And I heard a baby weep — 5o I rocked it to its sleep." 67 LOVERS Soul of my soul, look at the stars — Sapphires scattered through ivory bars. One more hand-clasp, one more kiss — One more moment of love and bliss. Free is the heart as the mountain and dell — Let us prolong for a moment the spell. Life has so much in a moment to give — How many moments like this can one live? Bent is your father, your mother is old — What do they knovr of a heaven of gold? Age has extinguished youth's flame in their eye — What do they know of a star-burning sky? Can they remember a star-night — a dream Luring to moon-bewitched forest and stream? Soul of my soul — the night is so fair, Stars and the violets kindle the air, Stars and the violets kindle the blood — We are alone — and love is so good. 68 Wine is the air, and velvet the field-— Who to the pulses of youth will not yield? We are alone— oh, nay, not alone- God, and the heaven, and lovers, are one. 69 NOTHING MORE Think all night and think all day, This way, that way, every way — Life, at best, is but a play — Nothing more! Meditate or reason hard — Scoff may cynic, dream may bard- Life is but a sharper's card — Nothing more ! Let us then make up our mind : Fate — our guide — is deaf and blind- Chance is whipping it behind — Nothing more! 70 LOVE Sweetly the nightingale sang, and the echo Carried a passionate thrill through the grove ; Yielding she fell in her lover's embraces — Heaven, reveal not the secret of love! Sadly the nightingale sang at her window, Weepingly answered the heavens above. Silent her burning tears streamed on her pillow — Heaven, reveal not the torture of love! Sombre, and silent the river was flowing, Girding with sadness the vale and the grove — Mutely the black stream embraced and engulfed her- Heaven, reveal not the treason of love! 71 A SPARK FROM A WINDOW A spark from a window, a rap at a door, A barefooted step of a maid ; A whisper, a handshake, a kiss in the dark ; Two young daring hearts, yet afraid. The faces unseen, and yet glowing alit, The room wrapped in gloom — yet too light ; The lips that are mute and the hearts that talk loud; The eyes full of sunshine by night. The slow-waning moon, the horizon pale-blue, The breeze and the vanishing star ; A handshake, a kiss, stealthy steps and the dawn — A whisper — good-night — from afar. . . . 72 LILIES THAT FADE Lilies that fade like the spell of a sunset, Who has not cherished them sometime in life? Who has not dreamt of them, loved them and lived them Lilies — a sweetheart, a child or a wife ? Lilies that fade — the first blush of a lover, Lilies that fade — the first smile of a child, Who has not dreamt of them, loved them and lived them, When autumn the blossoms of life has defiled? 73 WORTH WHILE I have heard you complaining and whining, As if stars in the skies were not shining, And my muse has demanded a song — To tell you, my friend, you are wrong ! There is Spring with its life-throbbing bosom, There are meadows all radiant with blossom, There are children to render the earth A dream-land of laughter and mirth. There is nature for those who will read It, There is beauty for those who will heed it, Be the heaven reserved for the blest — There are flowers and stars for the rest. There is woman — Man's Goddess — world over, There is man to adore her and love her, There Is love and devotion and truth, As real and as fragrant as youth. 74 There are heights where no souls have yet hovered, There are emerald isles undiscovered, There is bliss unexplored and unnamed. There is happiness waiting unclaimed. A smile in each tear-drop is hidden, In each desert — a beautiful Eden — Life's laughter rings loud from each tomb. Each winter bears spring in its womb. And when things appear vague and uncertain, Endeavor to lift nature^s curtain; There is search-work for heart and for mind. And prizes for searchers who find. 75 FOR THE MESSIAH * By the Jordan stands a smithy, And a blacksmith in his smithy Day and night is toiling. Up and down his bellows going, Piff! Puff! blowing, blowing. Rising and recoiling. Molten fire-snakes environ Both the anvil and the iron Tongues of flame disgorging. Molten fire spitting, spitting While the hammer hitting, hitting Is the iron forging. Hit, hit, hammer quicker. Let the sparklets fly and flicker, And in pools expire. Piff! puff! bellows blowing. Flim ! flame ! sparklets flowing. Like a rain of fire. "Swarthy Smith, what art thou making ?"- "I am forging, I am breaking * Free from the Hebrew after Frishmann. 76 Iron sharp and pointed, — For Messiah's steed a horse-shoe — Hu-rah! I am forging For the King anointed." By the Jordan sits a weaver, At his loom the skillful weaver Day and night is toiling. On the bobbins threads of cotton, Vick! vick! — threads of cotton Spooling on and coiling. Through the comb he draws the cotton, Draws the texture skill-begotten, And his task not leaving, Rapidly his treadle treads he. Rapidly his fibres threads he Ever, ever weaving. Sun and stars peep through his scuttle, Fast as arrow flies his shuttle. Not a moment slowing. To and fro and hither-thither, Zick! zack! hither-thither — Ever, ever going. "Weaver, say, what art thou making?" "Of my choicest stock I'm taking Cords and threads disjointed, And a garment I am weaving — 77 Hu-rah! I am weaving For the King anointed." By the Jordan lively, gaily, An embroid'rer working daily Never, never tires. Pick! pick! stitching, taping — Multicolored patterns shaping, Just as he requires. Eye to eyelet, stitch to stitches. As by magic of the witches, Fly his skillful fingers; Gold and silk and silver fret-work — Breathe with life upon his net-work— He nor stops nor lingers. Pick! pick! fast and faster Fly the fingers of the master, Dexterous and steady. Pick! pick! never dropping. Pick ! pick ! never stopping. Till the work is ready. "What, embroid'rer, art thou fitting, Why are thus thy fingers flitting At their task appointed?" *'I the banner am embroidering — Hu-rah! am embroid'ring For the King anointed." 78 Angels six through Heaven winging To the Lord their praises singing, Onward, onward pressing At the throne of God Almighty, Hu-rah ! God Almighty, Pray for heaven's blessing. All that's fairest, all that's rarest, And the nearest, and the dearest That to man is given. All that's pure and good and noble, That in hours of joy or trouble Man sends up to heaven; Pride and truth and strength and passion, Grace and pity and compassion, Mercy never ending, Faith and hope and love and beauty, Hu-rah! love and beauty — Mixing all and blending. "What then, angels, are you making?" "We are gathering and taking Things for us appointed. Out of these we shape the Spirit — Hu-rah ! Shape the Spirit Of the King anointed." 79 "But, alas, our earthly brothers, Smith and weaver and all others Have their work completed. While our stuff is not yet blended, And our work is not yet ended — Thus our aim — defeated. See, we are not even near it — The completion of the Spirit With the stuff we're given: Frail all human hopes and fears are. Frail all human smiles and tears are When they reach the heaven. Human kindness lasts an hour. Powerless is human power, And his love — we fear it! Woe to us, we haven't enough yet. Woe to us, we haven't the stuff yet. For Messiah's Spirit. Thus at nights when winds are sighing. One can hear the angels crying. Angels disappointed. 'Man, sublime, is not sublime yet, Woe to us, it is not time yet For the King anointed !" 80 THE FOUR POINTS The North, I'm told Has mines of gold, But there I will not go ; For all that's sold And bought for gold Is cold as northern snow. The South's delight Is wine and light, But there I will not go ; For light, I find, Like wine, may blind Man's sight with dazzling glow. The West has eyes. The West is wise. But there I will not go; For aeons far From truth we are The more we deem we know. The East has streams That flow with dreams, And there, oh there I'll go For dreams, in truth. Are light and youth — They make my soul-wings grow. 8i THE BOOK A book upon my table Lies open day and night; I read it and re-read it With ever-fresh delight. I read it and re-read it, And never have enough ; It speaks the heart of nature, It speaks the soul of love. I hear in it the tempest Of deserts wide and far; The rush of rapid rivers, The light-hymn of a star ; The echo of the mountains, The flight of human soul. The searching and the seeking Of Man's immortal goal. A book that never ages, That breathes perennial youth A book whose flaming pages Impress with flaming truth. 82 I know it will inspire And thrill with force divine The heart of coming ages As it is thrilling mine ; I feel its truth immortal In every sound and breath, And know that souls are deathless, And know there is no death. 83 "ELUL" The Elul month is here : I hear the Shofar blow; It brings my childhood back, The fair-sad long ago. My father clasps my hand, And whispers in my ear ; "To Shul my boy, to Shul— The 'fearful days' are near." A mist enveils the field, The leaves fall off the tree. And as they fall they speak In warning tones to me: *Tair summer's bloom and song To gloom and cold must yield ; There comes a judgment day For man and wood and field." 84 A JEALOUS GOD (From the Talmud) "Akibah," once King Ruf us said : ''Thou art in learning high ; Thy people hold thee great and wise — Now canst thou tell me why — Your mighty God, the Lord of Hosts — You will admit it odd — So jealous is He will not have You call an idol, God?" The Rabbi stood and for a while King Ruf us quietly eyed; And then a smile lit up his face, As calmly he replied: *'My King! I had a mangy dog. And Rufus was its name. . ." But pale with rage the king exclaimed : "This is unheard of shame! How dare you call by kingly name A cur — a wretched thing ! . . ." The Rabbi smiled again, and said: "There is your answer, King!" 85 MY GOD And should you ask for the name of my God, His nature, His dwelling, His power, I could not tell, for He lives in the clouds, As oft as He lives in a flower. And should you ask for the voice of my God, I could but point to the wonder That often I hear Him converse through the breeze, And oft through the storm and the thunder. And as to His dv^^elling — Fm made to believe His palace the high stars is over; But sometimes I feel that He dwells in an eye, When I look at the gaze of a lover. And sometimes I think that I am a God That He of me but a part is ; For heaven and earth are reflected in me. And His habitation — my heart is. 86 WHITE AND BLUE White and blue — all white and blue Is the banner of the Jew ; White as foam, and blue as sea, Wave-like pure, and wave-like free, From the God-land of his birth Sent to earth. White and blue — all white and blue — All the black-red ages through, Hordes of martyrs passing on. Waving banners in the sun : ''Man, but to thyself be true — White and blue!" White and blue — all white and blue! Hermon-white and Jordan blue, Ages old, but ever new — "Man, be brave! Be no slave! Not the many, but the few Strong of heart, and pure, and true. Will re-paint the world anew — White and blue!" 87 TO OUR PIONEERS When I dream of you, comrades, your struggle and pain, How you tried and you failed, and you tried once again. From the rise of the sun to its purple eclipse. With a hoe in your hand, with a song on your lips ; You the noble, the young, unaccustomed to toil, With no help and no cheer, save your love for the soil, With your sickle and plow under East-burning skies, With a flame in your blood and a flame in your eyes, With a love-brimming heart, and a faith-glowing soul, And a vision afar, and a beckoning goal. And a dream of a dawn that you knew would come true — Oh, dear comrades, I blush that I was not with you; That I helped not the road of the future to pave; Build for Freedom a home, dig for Exile a grave. 88 But before in my heart all my cherished dreams fade, I shall join you, dear comrades, with plow and with spade, That my soul might be cleansed of its slavery-stain, That my last words may be : "I have lived not in vain !" 89 A SEMITE The prophets of old in my soul left a spark — To search in the dark. I wander by winding, by fate-concealed ways To the end of the days. I dream a new sunrise, I dream a new morn Of ages unborn. A beacon my heart is, a compass — my soul, With Zion as goal. There still gleams a ray in my far-visioned eyes Of east-glowing skies. I long for the palm-land, its lakes and its streams — There still float my dreams. I pine for the soil that my ancestors trod, — There still lives my God. 90 THE SONG OF THE PEDDLER The field or the garden — the grain or the grape! But can I — a peddler — my life-path re-shape, And run from my fate and the city escape? The ghetto-slums nursed me, and there I was bred, No grass under foot, and no sun overhead, I sweated, I peddled, I bartered for bread. For pennies, for pennies, my life I have sold, I never have known that the heaven had gold, That meadows had pearls unsearched for, untold. In rags and in bones and in scraps was my trade, I knew not the blessing of blossom and blade. To toil, and to rest after toil in the shade. When thirsty — to drink from a crystal-clear spring. And gaze at the grain in the breezes aswing, And hear in the distance the harvesters sing. I knew not the bliss and the blessing of toil. The pride of the man who has conquered the soil, And shared in the booty, and ate of its spoil. 91 From city to city forever Tm thrown, Brick of its brick and stone of its stone, A peddler, a peddler — despised and alone. And yet there is something still left in my blood That tells me the blade and the blossom are good- And I will go back to the field and the wood. 92 EXILE No, you're wrong! It is not I- Exile in my song does cry. I came out to meet the day On a morning of a May, With my harp to sing and play. And a sky-lark in the air Bade me sing while earth was fair, While the heavens sang above, While my heart re-echoed love. Soon as I began to sing Snap they went string after string, Visions black, and anguish sharp Took possession of my harp ; Exile fingered it — not I — And my song came out a sigh. Then a raven from its nest Harshly cawed: "Fate's sad bequest Will your song with sadness fill, Make it weep against your will ; 93 Those who sorrows of their tribe With their mother's milk imbibe Cannot sing. Their hopes are fears, And their sweetest songs are tears," 94 THE ESROG The Day of Atonement Is over ; My father an Esrog has bought, And never the eyes of a lover Did sparkle as his, when he brought And showed us the fruit that was shining With sheen of a tropical star. The fruit for which hearts are still pining From homeland long exiled and far. And never was valued a jewel As dear as the fruit was by him — A value the centuries cruel Could neither efface nor bedim. I looked at the Esrog the golden, And dreamt of the orchards of gold, I dreamt of the ages the olden That never in hearts will grow old. I dreamt of the rills and the fountains That watered those gardens of yore. The plains and the vales and the mountains That blossomless, blossom the more. . . 95 I looked at my father caressing The fruit that bejewelled his feast, And mutely my heart sent a blessing To Zion — the Queen of the East. . 96 THE PEDDLER PRINCE In the Synagogue half fallen, Cobweb covered, dank and damp, By the withered, gilt-edged tablets And half quenched "Eternal lamp" He is chanting every morning Songs of David — ancient psalms, And his kindled eyes are gazing On a grove of breeze-tossed palms. To and fro his head is moving In the shadows dim and weird; Through the dust-stained pane a sunbeam Gilds his long, his silver beard. Though the Service long is ended. And the congregation gone, Still resounds his doleful sing-song Like an echo far and lone. *Zion, Zion, Land of beauty. Sky-bejewelled is thy soil. . . " Though the House of God is emptied For the house of sweat and toil. 97 Land of Beauty, Land of David — Plain and grove and vale and hill, Where his Kings of yore have trodden He in dreams is treading still. Land of Beauty — foe-invaded — Unforgotten ever since. . . Stranger, stand aside, don't wake him— This old peddler is a Prince. 98 MESSIAH My brother, wait ! From Zion's hill Or soon, or late — Arrive he will! Enrobed in light He'll wind his horn. And drive the night, And light the morn, Unchain the earth, Renew its youth, And give re-birth To Life and Truth. Life's stream bedimmed With lust and greed, Is overbrimmed With blood-stained weed. And man unmanned In manless strife Has long unplanned The plan of life. 99 Till life is dim And man is slave — So wait for him To come and save. Look up the hill, Dream on thy dream, For come he will — He must redeem ! lOO CONGRESS