THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES From the Broadway House List Semitic Series. Cr. 8vo. Gilt tops. 55. net each. Sayce : Babylonians and Assyri- Macdonald : Muslim Theology, ans. Life and Customs. Jurisprudence and Constitu tional Theory. Day: Social Life of the Hebrews. Hallevi : Kitab al Khazari. Paton : Early History of Syria Hirschfeld. and Palestine. 5 Maps. Rapaport: Tales and Maxims from the Midrash. Duff : Theology and Ethics of Rapaport : Tales and Maxims the Hebrews. from the Talmud. Two Series. A Guide for the Perplexed. By MOSES MAIMONIDES. Translated by Dr M. Friedlander, late Principal of the Jews' College, London. 8vo, 75. 6d. net. The essential edition of this great treasury and monu ment of twelfth-century philosophy. THE LATE CHIEF RABBI'S MEMORIAL VOLUME Anglo- Jewish Memories and other Sermons. By the Very Rev. DR H. ABLER, C.V.O., D.C.L., Chief Rabbi. Demy 8vo, 5s. net. This volume was published in 1909, as a memorial of Dr Adler's fifty years' ministration. His numerous mourners and admirers throughout the British Empire will be glad to possess a copy of this unique souvenir of a beloved personality. Aspects of the Hebrew Genius : Essays on Jewish Thought. By Various Writers. Edited by LEON SIMON. Cr. 8vo, 2S. 6d. net. This attractive volume may be regarded as the piece justificative of the Union of Jewish Literary Societies, which has counted many distinguished men among its Presidents. In another light, it may be regarded as a kind of companion volume to " Some Aspects of the Greek Genius," by Dr S. H. Butcher ; and it is well worth reading in both regards. GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, LIMITED. SONGS OF A JEW SONGS OF A JEW BY P. M. RASKIN AUTHOR OF " GHETTO-LIEDER " WITH A FOREWORD BY ISRAEL ZANGVVILL LONDON GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, LIMITED BROADWAY HOUSE, 68-74 CARTER LANE, E.G. 1914 fs FOREWORD BY ISRAEL ZANGWILL EVERY ghetto is now a nest of singing-birds. But \ the Yiddish poet has so far made his appearance in English literature only by way of a version of Morris Rosenfeld's Songs from the Ghetto. If there^ is nothing in the present volume that reaches the in tensity or the originality of Rosenfeld's In the Sweat Shop that palpitating protest against mechanical drudgery which leaves Hood's Song of the Shirt as far behind as the sewing-machine leaves the needle Mr Raskin has yet the unique distinction of ex pressing himself in English almost as trippingly as in Yiddish. It is only in 1910 that this "alien im migrant " published in his adopted town of Leeds where he seems to have become a Member of the Royal Sanitary Institute (!) a Yiddish collection entitled Ghetto- Lieder, with a preface by " Schalom Aleichem," the Yiddish Mark Twain. And now he has already mastered English sufficiently to write in the language if not of Shakespeare of Long- j fellow. There are those who, in the spirit of Dr Johnson, might wish that this feat were not only difficult but impossible. For it is obvious that the vii 861812 viii FOREWORD It magic of language will come much more readily to the sorcerer who is using his " mammy-language " as Yiddish cooingly has it than to one struggling with an idiom acquired and alien. And yet English is, after all, not so alien from Yiddish, for Yiddish is at root German, and German and English are of the same Teutonic family shall we say cousins-German ? Whatever the oft -alleged difficulty of translating Heine, it does not lie in his metres, for German and English run into much the same lyrical grooves. It was, in fact, a much greater feat for Heine to write in French than for Mr Raskin to write in English. Nevertheless, there is an aroma in Mr \ Raskin's Yiddish poems which even he has not been \ able to preserve in its native freshness in his English \ verses, and one would rather send him back to his \ "/mammy - language " than encourage him in his \sJtepmother-tongue, were it not for the reflection that \he latter enables him to reach a far wider audience, a\d that he really has something to say in it. I mentioned Longfellow of set purpose to head off the superior critic. Nobody can be more conscious than I of the commonplace measures in which Mr Raskin sings and the naive thoughts which he sets to his homely music. His is not even that simplicity which has been defined as the last refuge of the cqinplex. It is the art which scarcely conceals art- lessness. But I am not at all sure I do not prefer it to the artfulness which smothers sense. Not long ago I heard the last of the Victorian critics, Mr Edmund Gosse with a depth of thought and a lolished diction which few Georgians would waste pom FOREWORD ix on an after-dinner speech discourse upon the future of poetry. He looked forward, not altogether hospit ably, to an ever-increasing complexity of form and matter, the poet in his search for the unjaded being reduced to distorting his impressions and torturing his phrases. And, unquestionably, the temptation to seek novelty at the cost of veracity and simplicity must grow with the growth of the thesaurus of poetry. In all the arts we see the weight of the past urging the young generation to a desperate strain after originality to a futurism that is unlikely ever to have a past. The Yiddish poet is fortunately saved, both by his inacquaintance with the more recondite slopes of Parnassus, and by his peculiar heritage of national pain, from delving too deeply for his material or moulding it too tortuously. His childhood has pro vided him with that store of glamorous memories inherent in a ritualistic and domesticated religion ; his youth has known the struggle between the old culture and the new, often intensified by exile ; his manhood is richly endowed with miseries of body and spirit, and, above all if the discipline of suffer ing be necessary to the doctrine of song he is the son of a persecuted and homeless race, which is half- martyr, half-Philistine, half-superman, half-bagman a strange mixture of the sublime and the ridiculous. Is it wonderful if his songs reflect all this tragi-comic medley, if they hesitate between a sigh and a tear, and if the sigh, when it comes, is as much of self- contempt as of self-pity ? These traits are more or less common to all the ghetto poets ; they are but glorified in Heine. FOREWORD Perhaps of all contemporary poets Mr W. H. Davies comes nearest Mr Raskin in simplicity. But how complex is our ghetto poet in comparison ! Mr Davies has only himself to express, the adventures of a soul on the tramp he has not, like Mr Raskin, the vast background of a national tragedy. He has no "great far-off divine event" to yearn for or to despair of. Nor does he possess the psychological disunity of our Russian Jew, whose work affords a happy hunting-ground for the student of dual person ality, quite apart from the possession of two tongues, which is already to possess two souls. Mr Raskin, like Whitman, does not mind contradicting himself. And there are in his talent all sorts of curious streaks, just as there are unexpected deviations from the monotony of his metres. You will find in the second jart of his book strange reminders of seventeenth- mtury poets, weavers of concetti and confectioners olHove-lyrics, whom it is certain he has never read. My Jtfeart) for example, might have been written by a more sardonic Carew. As for To You, I can even imagine Browning writing it in a peculiarly lucid moment. But whatever reception the good British public who loved not Browning either accord to these verses, it is pleasant to think that the author has his own racial following, and that his work will not go unread, or worse! unpurchased. Nor do I think the general reader can read it without profit, even though he be too critical for pleasure. AUTHOR'S NOTE MY sincere thanks are due to the proprietors of The Jewish Chronicle and The Jewish World for kind permission to reprint several poems that have appeared in these journals ; to my dear friend the Rev. M. Abrahams, B.A., for his valuable advice and assistance; to my friends Mr S. Phillips, M.A., Mr B. Libbish, B.A., and to Mr Maurice Myers for kindly undertaking the revision of the manuscript for the press ; and, above all, to one of the greatest literary men of our age, Mr Israel Zangwill, the value of whose sympathy and encouragement I can better feel than express. P. M. R. XI CONTENTS A PRAYER THE MIRACLE TWO ANGELS MESSIAH MN RAIN . PAGE I PLACE a *GER . 4 >ERER 5 MELODY . 8 3 PLANT . JDER . .;; a :LE . . 17 SAL RIDDLE . . . . 19 MUSICIAN 21 ISION 23 H CHILD . LS 25 26 . . .28 ' PRINCESS Sj . 30 'ISM , , 31 JCIU xiv CONTENTS PACE DAVID'S HARP 33 THE SEDER 42 THE FEAST OF WEEKS . , . . . . -45 CHANUCAH LIGHTS 48 THE LAST 50 A HEBREW MELODY . . . ~ 51 THE HEBREW . . 52 THE FIRST SNOW . . . . . . . -52 BY NIGHT . . ... . . . . -54 IN THE WOOD . . . ... . . -55 "HOW FAIR . . . " . . , . . . .57 I SING LIKE A BIRD IN THE SKY . . . . -59 A DEAD BIRD . . 60 THE SPRING SKY ... . . . 6l SONGS AND TEARS . 62 I WILL NOT CHANGE ....... 63 A SONG . . . . . . . . . . 64 TO ........ -65 BETRAYED . . . . 66 A TEAR AND A SMILE , . . . . . . 66 THE PROPOSAL ... . 68 A SPRING-NIGHT DREAM . ,. ... . 70 TO YOU . . . . it i. >. t , . 72 CONTENTS xv A DREAM . PAOB . . . . . . 72 A PLEDGE . . . . . . :'. . ' V . 73 TWO SORROWS . ... . .74 MY HEART VALE .... . . . . . .74 7? I ASKED THE STARS . 76 CHILDREN . 78 A RAY . . . . 79 MY MOTHER'S SONG . , . 80 THE DYING POET . 81 DISILLUSION . . ... 83 MY FAITH . , 84 HARP AND SWORD . 86 SONGS OF A JEW THE AUTUMN RAIN DRIPPING, drizzling Autumn rain, Beating on my window-pane, From my window on the ground How monotonous a sound ! Drip-drip-drip, and drop-drop-drop Long, long hours without a stop ; Dripping, drizzling, beating fast, Telling stories of my past, Bringing memories again, Cold and dismal as the rain, Cold and dismal as the truth Of my childhood, of my youth, That arrived and passed away Like a drizzling Autumn day. I A SONGS OF A JEW Drip-drip-drip and drop-drop-drop, All day long without a stop ! Drizzle, drip, and tell me more What my future has in store. Tell, I pray you, like a friend, Will my Autumn ever end ? What ! foretell you exile, pain ! Nothing new, O foolish rain ! Exile is my People's nurse, From our cradle to our hearse. Drip-drip-drip, and drop-drop-drop, All day long without a stop. Can you tell no other thing ? Better stop, so I may sing ; Sing the life-song of a Jew I can sadlier sing than you. MY BIRTH-PLACE NOT in frolic, joy, and freedom, Is, O friend, my childhood gone ; In the place my mother bore me, Sun of freedom never shone, MY BIRTH-PLACE There, my friend, where every life-beam Is in clouds of death concealed, Where Cain's brand " Be strange and wander " On each human brow is sealed. Where men come and go like shadows, Pray, and fast, and toil, and slave, Life on earth devoutly crushing For a dream beyond the grave. Where of earthly life despairing, Men in vain to heaven look ; Where man's heart and soul are buried In the pages of a book. Where man's thought for ever hovers, In a lifeless space of gloom, Where the brightest youth is youthless, Fairest plants fade ere they bloom. In the ghetto, friend, the ghetto, Where all hopes at birth decay, There my mother bore and nursed me, There my childhood passed away. SONGS OF A JEW THE STRANGER OPEN, child, your wicket, Let me in, I pray ; Tired am I from wand'ring, Long is still my way. What my name is, ask you ? Why reveal my shame ? On my long, long journey I forgot my name. Wonder you I come by This unbeaten track ? Storm, by chance, has brought me, Storm will take me back. And the land I come from ? Oh, in ev'ry part You will find the traces Of my wounded heart. Why without a torchlight In a night so dark ? Tempests in the desert Quenched it, spark by spark. THE WANDERER Have I any friends here ? Many a one and none ; None, when I am with them, Many, when I am gone. And the land I go to ? That would mean a goal ; There's no land nor people Stays my restless soul. Everywhere a native, Everywhere a guest ; All I pray and crave for Is a moment's rest. THE WANDERER WITH my wanderer's staff in hand Tramping thus from land to land, Nowhere finding home and rest For my wounded, weary breast. Ever hearing all day long Ev'rywhere the same old song : SONGS OF A JEW Round the earth, and to and fro Ever go ! Go, no clime must you allure, Go, you are too rich, too poor, Go, you are too weak, too strong, Go along ! Brother dear, oh, dost thou know- Where to go ? Go from North for life's sake go ; Go from West for our sake, go ; Go from here you seem too pale ; Go from there you look too frail ; Go, you are too weak, too bold, Go, you are too young, too old, Go too simple, go too clever, Go for ever ! Here a peril, there a danger, Ev'rywhere, a stranger, stranger, Ev'rywhere, all men among Go along ! Brother dear, oh, dost thou know- Where to go ? THE WANDERER Friends who feel my pain and shame Bid me back to whence I came, To the clime that drove me least, Bid me seek the East, the East. There, they say, I'll refuge find, There, they say, the skies are kind, There I'll rest my weary head, Plough my field, and eat my bread. There I'll rest and there I'll toil, Sow the seed, and love the soil ; Where my fathers lived and died There my new life should be tried. But my elder brothers say : All the world I would betray ! Go to East oh, what a whim ! Go to East oh, what a dream ! And my elder brothers say Stay away ! Brother dear, oh, dost thou know Where to go ? SONGS OF A JEW A HEBREW MELODY You comfort me that I am living, While mighty nations were effaced, But tell me, dearest, which is nobler, A freeman's death or life disgraced ? Two brothers lived ; one killed the other ; Repose in grave found he who died ; But I, like Cain, am doomed to wander, And Abel's rest I am denied. " Go on and dwell," I hear an echo, " Removed from earth, remote from sky ; And strange alike to man and angel, You dare not live, you shall not die ! " THE LOTUS PLANT OF the lotus plant a story Comes to us from ancient time, Those who tasted of its flower Soon forgot their native clime. THE LOTUS PLANT In the East there is a country, Where my People's star once shone ; Since it set in utter blackness Centuries have come and gone ; But I cannot yet forget it Though I roam the earth around, For that precious Lotus flower I have nowhere, nowhere found ; And my native, ancient country Ever looms before my eyes, With its hills and plains and gardens, With its deep and sapphire skies. With its lily-spangled valleys, Groves of cedar, palm, and vine, With its sacred sites where erstwhile Trod the fathers of our line. Ev'ry sunbeam, bird, and flower To my vision ever brings Hills and valleys that have cradled Heroes, prophets, bards, and kings. io SONGS OF A JEW But a lorn, sequestered stranger, Lo ! I wander through the West, Ever dreaming, ever longing, Never finding peace or rest. Of my kindred I make question, While from land to land I roam ; " You that tasted of the Lotus, And in Exile made your home ; " Can you tell me, happy people, Can you tell me in what part Grows that blessed magic flower That shall heal my pining heart ? " But they gaze at me in wonder, Shake their heads and turn away ; And they mock me as a dreamer, And I plod my lonely way. In what Gilead their balm grew, They keep hidden from my quest ; So I pine, I pine for homeland, With no plant to give me rest THE INTRUDER n THE INTRUDER ONCE in my secluded chamber, Late at night I read Israel's ancient, wondrous story ; How he shone, and shed Light around him in his homeland Thriving free and great. . . . Then my thoughts passed slowly onward To his present fate. Israel, homeless, footsore, captive, Into exile goes, And the world has long forgotten What to him it owes. " Gentile World ! you have polluted Springs from which you drank." In such sad recriminations, On my couch I sank. Stealthily an old man entered My secluded room ; On his breast a cross suspended , In his eyes, deep gloom. 12 SONGS OF A JEW " You accused me, and I answer : Yours, not mine, the blame, For your exile, for your downfall, For your grief and shame. " Not I, no, but you polluted Your eternal spring ; Home and faith and pride abandoned, And to exile cling. " You it is at alien altars Kneel to alien gods ; You who, as in cast-off garments, Deal in cast-off thoughts. " Gather crumbs from strangers' tables, Colder crumbs than stone. And you glory that you have no Table of your own. " Faith and truth and pride all treasures, You have prized of old ; For a lentil-pottage long since You your birthright sold. THE INTRUDER 13 " You no longer feel the horror Of a slave's disgrace ; Do you ask me to respect you, Honour such a race ? " You of old had heroes, prophets, Noble, great, and true ; How much of their daring spirit Is there left in you ? " Maccabeans as your forebears In your boast you claim ; If they knew their grandsons they would Die again of shame ! " Dead is all your pride and valour, Dead your sacred tongue ; Speech of bards and kings and prophets To oblivion flung. " And your home that waits deserted Do you e'er recall ? Where are all your rich and mighty, Mammon's high priests all ? I 4 SONGS OF A JEW " Like deserters they are sailing Under foreign flags ; Lackeys, who their masters' mantles Wear to hide their rags. " Crumbs of bread and beggars' lodging- Dare no more expect ! No, a race that loses honour No one can respect ! " Now goodbye, and cease to blame me For your shame and yoke." " Stay ! " I shrieked, " I wish to answer ! Stay ! " and I awoke. A PRAYER GOD, I pray Thee, grant Thy people, Just their daily bread ; Not the bread of strife and friction, Not the bread of sad affliction, Tearless daily bread ; A PRAYER 15 Not the bread by slaves desired, Not the bread by shame acquired, Honest daily bread ; That they may no longer gather, Crumbs from wealthy tables Father, Give their daily bread ! God, I pray Thee, grant Thy people, Courage, heart, and strength ; Not the strength, like tempest rushing, On its way all wrecking, crushing Noble heart and strength ; That in Man's inhuman battle, They may not, like driven cattle, Slaughtered be at length ; That they may be self-depending, That they may be self-defending, God, oh, give them strength ! God, I pray Thee, grant Thy people, Just a little pride ; Not the pride that severs brothers, Seeing only faults in others True and noble pride ; 16 SONGS OF A JEW That their young, and brave, and healthy, That their wise, and strong, and wealthy, Drift not with the tide ; That whate'er in life their stations, Theirs be noble aspirations God, oh, give them pride ! God, t pray Thee, grant Thy people, Shelter and a home ; Not a home that swords acquire, Not a home of blood and fire, Just a peaceful home ; That they may not ever wander, Torn and rent in parts asunder, Tramp the earth and roam ; That their bond be never shattered, That they be no longer scattered God, oh, bring them home ! THE MIRACLE 17 THE MIRACLE THE Rebbe tells his old, old tale, The pupils seated round. "... And thus, my boys, no holy oil In Temple could be found. " The heathens left no oil to light The Lord's eternal lamp ; At last one jar, one single jar, Was found with High Priest's stamp. " Its oil could only last one day But God hath wondrous ways ; For lo ! a miracle occurred : It burned for eight whole days." The tale was ended, but the boys, All open-eyed and dumb, Sat listening still, as though aware Of stranger things to come. i8 SONGS OF A JEW " Just wait, my boys, permit me, pray, The liberty to take ; Your Rebbe may he pardon me Has made a slight mistake. " Not eight days, but two thousand years That jar of oil did last, To quell its wondrous flames availed No storm, no flood, no blast. " But this is not yet all, my boys, The miracle just starts. This flame is kindling light and hope In countless gloomy hearts. " And in our long and starless night, Lest we should go astray, It, beacon-like, sheds floods of light, And eastwards points our way. " Where light will shine on Zion's hill, As in the days of old. The miracle is greater, boys, Than what your Rebbe told." THE ETERNAL RIDDLE 19 THE ETERNAL RIDDLE ISRAEL, my People, God's greatest riddle, Will thy solution Ever be told ? Fought never conquered, Bent never broken, Mortal immortal, Youthful, though old. Egypt enslaved thee, Babylon crushed thee, Rome led thee captive, Homeless thy head. Where are those nations Mighty and fearsome ? Thou hast survived them, They are long dead. 20 SONGS OF A JEW Nations keep coming, Nations keep going, Passing like shadows, Wiped off the earth. Thou an eternal Witness remainest, Watching their burial, Watching their birth. Pray, who revealed thee Heaven's great secret : Death and destruction Thus to defy ? Suffering torture, Stake, Inquisition Prithee, who taught thee Never to die ? Ay, and who gave thee Faith, deep as ocean, Strong as the rock-hills, Fierce as the sun ? A GHETTO MUSICIAN 21 Hated and hunted, Ever to wander, Bearing a message God is but One ! Pray, has thy saga Likewise an ending, As its beginning Glorious of old ? Israel, my People, God's greatest riddle, Will thy solution Ever be told ? A GHETTO MUSICIAN THE hall was bright, the guests were gay, In festal garb arrayed ; Unheeded by the piano sat A gloomy dark-eyed maid. 22 SONGS OF A JEW It seemed as though the piano smiled, With dazzling milk-white teeth ; The maiden touched it, and it wept, Her fingers swift beneath. And straight a sudden thrill of grief, Passed through the feasting throng, And old and young were bowed before The pathos of her song. I knew the player, knew her race, Her birthplace and Belief; I knew the music of her soul, Her wordless song of grief. The soul that treasured in its depths The drama of a race ; The song a distant ghetto nursed Her dismal native place. Of vanished hopes, of buried dreams, Complained her sad, sweet song ; What brought I mused this child of grief To this gay, feasting throng ? ISAIAH'S VISION 23 No answer came ; a spell-bound crowd Stood motionless around ; Eyes dimmed with tears, hearts beating fast, Still sought each magic sound. ISAIAH'S VISION THREE thousand years ago, The Hebrew Prophet's soul, Through countless ages saw, The far-off human goal. When life was base and vile, And chained was human thought, He to a heathen world, A godly message brought. " A time will come when man," Proclaimed the noble seer/" " To plough shall turn his sword, To pruning-hook his spear, 24 SONGS OF A JEW " His field of fire and blood To field of golden corn ; In human heart new love, New glory shall be born. " And nations all to peace Shall give their mind and heart, And lift no sword, nor learn, The godless martial art." .. Three thousand years have passed ; And though the Prophet's dream May yet be unattained, And force still reigns supreme ; The Prophet's people prove To men the human goal : That mightier than the sword Is heart, and mind, and soul. That mightier than the sword Is God's eternal word. The Prophet's people live In spite of fire and sword, THE JEWISH CHILD 25 THE JEWISH CHILD HE is a child, and yet he is Much older than his years ; He laughs, but in his laugh is oft More sadness than in tears. He frisks and sports, but, 'mid his pranks, He stares and in his face You read, as in an open book, The drama of his race. And in his deep, dark, sparkling eyes You see his people's doom. They mirror both bright eastern skies, And northern mist and gloom. He plays, he capers like a child, But oft it seems to you That in a moment he will grow A grey, a wandering Jew. 26 SONGS OF A JEW He frolics, but his very glee With pathos is entwined ; He's child and man, he's young and old, He's joy and gloom combined. TWO ANGELS EVERY Friday when the West Lures the golden sun to rest, And the gloomy earth to cheer, Diamond stars in sky appear. When Queen Sabbath comes on earth, Bringing Heaven's joy and mirth, Week-worn workers' toil to end Angels two from sky descend. Angels two one kind and bright, But the other dark as night. And around the world they soar, Halting at each Jewish door. When their eyes lit candles meet, When bright faces Sabbath greet, When sweet songs, and anthems fair Show that Peace hath banished care, TWO ANGELS 27 Anger, and the daily grind Then the Angel mild and kind Utters blessings : " Like to-night Ever shall your life be bright ; Never, never, shall you miss, Soul's contentment, deepest bliss." And his mate, with gloomy eyes, " Amen " to his words replies. But when they a household see Void of joy, of Sabbath glee, Not a candle, not a spark, Room and faces sad and dark, Work and strife and Satan's wiles, Then the evil Angel smiles, And he hastes to speak his curse : " Ever go from bad to worse, Every day and all life through Peace shall be denied to you." And his mate, with tearful eyes, " Amen " says and sadly cries. 28 SONGS OF A JEW MESSIAH (A TALMUDIC LEGEND) AND Daniel begged the Angel of the Lord : " Oh, tell me, pray, of that Salvation true, Jehovah will unto His people bring, So that my soul may rest and tranquil be." And thus the Angel spoke and made reply : " On that great day Messiah, Judah's King, Will mount His flag upon the Zion Hill, On that great day the Temple will be built, By Judah's foe no more to be destroyed. That day Messiah, God's annointed King, With Him Elijah, Judah's prophet true, The holy Mount of Olives will ascend, And King to prophet thus will give command : ' Arise, O Tishbite, sound thy clarion high ! ' And as the clarion peals the earth will wake, A light more brilliant and more dazzling still, Than when Jehovah first created light, Will shine, and clothe the earth from end to end. The sick and grieved that light will heal and cheer, MESSIAH 29 And when once more the trumpet's peals are heard, The dead will wake, and, rising from their tombs, Shake off the clods that kept them cold and dumb. And friend will cheer and glad the heart of friend, And mother will embrace with joy her child, And from the East and West, and North and South, They, swiftly brought, as on an eagle's wings, Will flock, and to Messiah wend their way. And thus the joyous message will be spread : ' The day has come the Lord designed of yore, Let all rejoice, let all be glad this day.' And when again the trumpet's sound is heard, The Lord, surrounded by His Angel troops, In light and glory will appear on earth. And when once more the prophet's trumpet sounds, The hills and mounts will sink, the valleys rise ; And where the Tabor once and Carmel Hill, And where the Olive Mount and Hermon stood, A flowery plain will far and wide extend, And then the Lord His Angels will command, To raise once more the Temple's golden gates The earth kept buried in its entrails vast, Since Judah's foe the holy fane destroyed." 30 SONGS OF A JEW RABBI AND PRINCESS (FROM THE TALMUD) " RABBI," said a heathen princess To a Hebrew chief; " You a man so wise how can you Follow your belief, When your God, the great Jehovah, Acted like a thief ? " For he cast a sleep on Adam, And, without his leave, Took a rib from out his body, Made the woman Eve. Rabbi, in such wise act only Robbers I believe." " Princess," said the Rabbi, " if you, Wish to judge aright, Just permit me to relate you What occurred one night, When a man my chamber entered, Hid from people's sight. ANTI-SEMITISM 31 " In my isolated cottage, Up the barren wold, I possessed a lamp of copper, Tarnished, bent, and old, And he stole it. ... But instead he Left a lamp of gold. " Tell me, was this man a robber, Can he thus be named ? " " No ! he was your benefactor ! " She, surprised, exclaimed ; Then, the Rabbi's smile beholding, Turned and blushed, half-shamed. ANTI-SEMITISM (AFTER THE TALMUD) WHEN the Persian Haman Thrilled and throbbed with joy, At the gladsome prospect, Israel to destroy ; 32 SONGS OF A JEW Satan, likewise joyful, Brought to God the news, Bade Him sign the verdict, To destroy the Jews. The Almighty answered, " Thy request is good, But my seal, ere signing, Must be dipped in blood. " Bring some human blood, then, Shed by Jewish hands." Forthwith sped old Satan Over seas and lands, Searching every highway, Every cave and wood ; But, alas, he could not Find such human blood. Then to God returning, Carried back the tale : " Cowards are Thy people, And of heart too frail." DAVID'S HARP 33 DAVID'S HARP (DEDICATED TO MY DEAR FRIEND DR CHARLES WEIZMANN) A harp hangs in David's bed-chamber, and every midnight a south wind breathes upon it, and its strings play of themselves. ("Berachoth," p. 3). As the silver moon, in climbing In a summer night the crystal Walls of heaven through the cloudland, Casts its mellow, dreamy moonbeams On the paths and roads deserted, On the Temples and the Castles, Dreaming like enchanted giants By the watching ghost-like shadows ; Thus in memory arising Sometimes through life's sombre cloudland Images long, long forgotten, Charming sagas, ancient legends, Stories quaint I heard in childhood From my Rebbe in my Cheder, 34 SONGS OF A JEW Cast their tender light, illuming The deserted, gloomy chambers Of my grief-encompassed heart. In the chamber of King David, Of Jerusalem's great Ruler, Hangs an old, a golden harp. Night by night, at the hour of midnight, When all mortals rest in slumber, And all Angels hymns are chanting, Blows a south breeze, softly touching With its breath the strings the golden, And the harp, as though by magic, Of itself begins to play. Soon the King those sounds awaken ; Swiftly from his couch he rises, Through the night, until the sunrise, Chants his wondrous psalms and hymns. And those songs possess a power, A great hidden, sacred power, Which reverberates their echo In each human heart and spirit, And they pierce the hearts of mortals, DAVID'S HARP 35 Drawing from the depths of feeling, All the pearls and all the corals Of emotion and of thought. Midnight peals. Unearthly music, Fills the chamber of King David, Melodies in which the singer Hears the voice of God and Nature, Sometimes speaking through the breezes, Sometimes through the howling tempest ; Sometimes like a streamlet flowing, Sometimes raging like the sea. . . . Oft a mighty voice arises, Like a fiery thunder rolling O'er the wide Arabian desert ; Like the wild Simoon, unfettered, Yelling in its angry effort To uproot the hoary cedars Of King Lebanon the snow-crowned. Like the Red Sea's heaving bosom, Tossed and tumbled by the tempest, Vale-like sinking, mount-like rising, 36 SONGS OF A JEW As it foams, and yawns, and threatens To engulf the rocks above it. Then the poet's psalms re-echo Voices angry as the tempest. " He layeth the beams of his chambers In the waters, He walketh upon the wings Of the wind ; At the voice of thy thunder they haste away, They go up like mountains, They go down like valleys," Yea, the roaring waves and thunder Then his songs reverberate. Oft a melody starts flowing, Soft and calm like the Shiloah, Gently rolling lucent billows To the velvet shore, caressing, Wooing tenderly the willows, Like the ripple of the far off Murmuring fountains of En-gedi, Like the whisper of the young ears DAVID'S HARP 37 In the cornfields of Bethlehem, When the spring breeze lulls to rest ; Then the singer's strain re-echoes Natures voices sweet and tender : " He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, He leadeth me beside the still waters." And the music of the harp-strings, And the words sublime and charming Fuse into one wondrous hymn. Oft a melody upsurges Full of immemorial sorrow, Like the speechless supplication Of a lone forsaken soul. Of a soul that gropes in darkness, Seeing no escape, no outlet From its melancholy fate ; Like the sob of stricken parents, Watching hopelessly the death-bed Of their only darling child. Then the singer, gravely, sadly, Sings his melancholy song : 38 SONGS OF A JEW " The pains of death encompass me, The woes of grave got hold upon me, I found but grief and woe," And the echo of his strain is Through the night a thrill of grief. Oft a melody awakens, Flowing like a sacred prayer, Like a love-dream first unfolding In the pure heart of a maiden, Raising feelings undefined yet, Yearnings, hopes till then unknown ; Like a quaint, mysterious vision, Woven in a poet's fancy, Carrying him, as though by magic, On the wings of inspiration, Into spheres from mortals hidden, Into spheres of boundless beauty To a space of light and rapture, Charming vistas, wondrous views. There the singer hears a chorus Of angelic hosts in heaven, Chanting, glorifying, praising The Creator of the worlds, DAVID'S HARP 39 And the singer joins the chorus, To the sound of magic harp-strings : " Praise Him, praise Him, all ye angels, Praise Him all ye hosts of light, Praise Him Heavens of the Heavens, Every soul shall praise the Lord." Nightly thus the harp starts playing, Nightly thus the King starts singing Songs of rest and songs of tempest, Of life's joys, and of life's burdens, Man's despair, his hopes and longings, Songs of Nature and of God All the deepest heart-emotions, All most sacred aspirations Are re-echoed in his songs. Thus the twins by song begotten Speech of heart and sound of Heaven Have presented world and mankind With the Psalter Book of Life, And the echo of that life-book Ever hovers in the world-space Over hill, and dell, and desert, SONGS OF A JEW In the prince's gorgeous palace, In the pauper's gloomy cottage, Every human heart it touches It entrances and inspires us, Fills with thoughts and yearnings great. Ages come and go. ... Like actors On the stage appearing, changing, On the earth the stage of mankind Countries, nations ever change. Ages come and go ; but one thing One, alas ! remains for ever Strife and struggle unabated, 'Twixt the races, faiths, and nations. Men have never yet discovered How between them (fateful secret !) Earth and heaven should be shared, Yet amid the wild confusion, And the chaos of man's conflicts, When God's reason sobers mankind Of its war intoxication, And a momentary truce is On the battlefield proclaimed Then in synagogues, cathedrals, DAVID'S HARP 41 And in churches, and in cloisters, And wherever man, repentant, Lifts his troubled soul in prayer, Magic sounds ascend the heavens, Songs that stream from sacred fountains In the human soul deep hidden, And they ease life's heavy burdens, Bringing comfort, help, and peace. Listen to those words and music, Whosoever, friend, you may be, You will recognise these songs. Still King David's harp is chiming, Still its strings remain unbroken, Still unsilenced are its echoes, While the ages come and go, Everlasting and eternal Is it, like man's living spirit, Like the firmament above us, Like the people of the King. Israel, Glorious are thy legends And they are of thee a portion ; For thy legends still are living, And thy life a legend still. 42 SONGS OF A JEW THE SEDER COTTAGES whitewashed, And cosy and neat, Smilingly waiting The spring feast to meet. Happy-faced children At play here and there, Perfume and freshness Of spring in the air. II Bashfully blushing, The sun, like a bride, Goes down in crimson In Westland to hide. Fair is the twilight, And fragrant and still Little by little The synagogues fill. THE SEDER 43 One by one kindle The night's gleaming eyes : Candles in windows, And stars in the skies. Hi Ended in Shut is The service divine ; Seder is started With legends and wine. Father is blessing The night of all nights, All that are hungry To feast he invites. " All that are homeless Yet masters shall be, Slaves who are this year The next shall be free ! " Children ask " questions " And father replies, Playfully sparkle The wine and the eyes. 44 SONGS OF A JEW Hymns of redemption All merrily sing, Queen is each mother, Each father a king. IV Midnight, the Seder Is come to an end. Guardian angels From heaven descend. Each one a message Of liberty brings, Scattering blessings Of peace from his wings. v Fast asleep the townlet, The field and the lake, Only the full moon Above is awake, Shedding its tender, Its silvery light, Guarding God's chosen, God's People to-night. THE FEAST OF WEEKS 45 THE FEAST OF WEEKS WE have an ancient custom Surviving from the East, To decorate our dwellings With flowers for the feast. How quaint is this old custom From East to exile brought ; But why does it awaken In me such gloomy thought ? I see the flower-bearers 'Mid ghetto's rush and strife, And in my mind is woven A dream of vanished life. A land with fair green pastures Is in my vision born, And palm and cedar forests, And fields of golden corn, 46 SONGS OF A JEW And mountains trimmed with olives, And vales with lilies decked, And peasants strong and happy, With heart and head erect. Each garden and each vineyard In tones of plenty speaks, Rich nature celebrating Its glorious Feast of Weeks. The men like stately cedars, The women tall as palms, Their festal hymns are chanting Their wondrous pretty psalms. And children gay and merry Arrive in fair array, Luxuriant laurels bearing In honour of the day. The phantom views are vanished ; Around, alas, I see A sordid, gloomy ghetto No sign of field or tree. THE FEAST OF WEEKS 47 I see through busy alleys A Jew his flowers bring To decorate his dwelling In memory of spring. Oh, long has he forgotten His fair, his native home ; In exile he has learned From town to town to roam. No longer a Judean A weary exiled Jew, In Ghetto he is praying For harvest, rain, and dew. I see him bent and weary ; O God, how sad it is ! How long will he pluck flowers From fields that are not his ? And prayingly I murmur, O Israel's Rock and Shield, Bring back Thy ancient people To garden, wood, and field. 48 SONGS OF A JEW Let them revive the custom, Fair custom of the East With flowers from their gardens To celebrate their feast. CHANUCAH LIGHTS I KINDLED my eight little candles, My Chanucah candles and lo ! Fair visions and dreams half-forgotten Were rising of years long ago. I musingly gazed at my candles, Meseemed in their quivering flames In golden, in fiery letters I read the old glorious names, The names of our heroes immortal, The noble, the brave, and the true ; A battlefield saw I in vision Where many were conquered by few ; CHANUCAH LIGHTS 49 And mute lay the Syrian army, Judea's proud foe in the field ; And Judas the brave Maccabaeus I saw in his helmet and shield. His eyes shone like bright stars of heaven, Like music resounded his voice : " Brave comrades, we fought and we conquered, Now let us in God's name rejoice ! " We conquered but know, my brave comrades, No triumph is due to the sword ; Remember our motto and watchword, ' For People and Towns of the Lord.' " He spoke, and from all the four corners An echo repeated each word ; The woods and the mountains re-echoed, " For People and Towns of the Lord." And swiftly the message spread, calling : " Judea, Judea is free ! Re-kindled the lamp in the Temple, Re-kindled each bosom with glee ! " D 50 SONGS OF A JEW My Chanucah candles soon flickered, Around me was darkness of night ; But deep in my soul I felt shining, A heavenly-wonderful light. THE LAST (AFTER THE HEBREW) THIS the key of Thy Temple's Gates Into my hands Thou gavest, saying : " I make thee watchman o'er my House, A watchman, and a master too ; And thou shalt watch my holy House. And open wide its gates To those who knock at them, With yearning heart. . . ." And I I faithfully kept watch, And day and night did wait For parched men to come And drink the water of Thy blessed Spring. The key with rust is covered in my hand. I heard a gossip and a noise around, But none enquired for the House of God. A HEBREW MELODY 51 Alone Thy gates I opened, Alone I stood and prayed, And to myself I said 'Tis time to close. And, growing old, and grey, and frail, I breathed my last prayer, And in the dusty curtain of the ark I lapped my head and wept aloud, For great was my disgrace. And when Thy House, O God, I left, I saw the last dark shadows creep And follow in my steps. A HEBREW MELODY THE sky-larks sing to me A song of mirth and glee, I feel their airy gladness They soar so high and free. Oh, singers in the sky, If but to you could I Pour out my inner sadness, You would not sing, but cry. 52 SONGS OF A JEW THE HEBREW You bid me to bury my sorrows, And cease o'er my burdens to rave. But where shall I find on this planet As vast as my sorrows a grave ? THE FIRST SNOW FAIRY-LIKE on earth advancing, All transforming, all entrancing, Playing on their way and dancing, Soil-untarnished yet. Silver stars from sky are dropping, Little fairies skipping, hopping, On the roofs and turrets popping, Crowns with diamonds set. Greeting Nature's silver wedding, Argent splendour they are shedding, And a bridal veil outspreading Like a silver net. THE FIRST SNOW 53 Till town-alleys foul and tainted, Turn cathedral-aisles ensainted, Carved with gorgeous ermine-painted Ornamental fret. How all changed by elfin power ! Every house a magic tower, Every tree with lilac-flower Lures like a coquette. Following in their magic traces, Hidden joy each heart embraces, Sparkling eyes and brightened faces Everywhere are met. How I love you, white-robed city, Maiden-pure, and maiden-pretty ! But my love is what a pity ! Tempered with regret. Truer lover you would find me, If you were not to remind me Of a cold land left behind me That I'd fain forget. 54 SONGS OF A JEW BY NIGHT THE night is fair, the night is still, God's spirit soars o'er vale and hill ; I dream again fair childhood's dreams, The world a temple is, meseems, The beaming silver moon in sky, Its lamp eternal is on high ; And far behind the dots that spark There lies concealed a holy ark, Of which the sky its curtain blue Is set with stars with diamonds true, Around on earth, where'er I look, I see an open, sacred book, Whose every page each hill and vale Relates a hidden, sacred tale. The night is still, and on my way I hear a congregation pray The crooning streams, the lilting rills, The solemn woods, the musing hills. Each stalk and blade, each rush and plant, Their sacred hymns to heaven chant. IN THE WOOD 55 Each tender flower, full of grace, In fragrant tones sings heaven's praise. O'er field and mead the breeze goes round, And carries blessings in its sound. In wood and valley, everywhere, The sacred music fills the air ; The trees, the birds, the waterfall, They join the chorus each and all. On earth an echo hovers round, And calls : " This earth is holy ground, Which in His mercy He hath blessed." And when I heard the voice I guessed That all the longings of my heart And I myself are but a part Like ev'rything I hear and see Of Nature's Temple, pure and free. IN THE WOOD I COME to thee, O woodland, From town and men to hide, To birds, and trees, and flowers, My heart-woe to confide. 56 SONGS OF A JEW They were my mates in childhood, We know each other well, And oft I leave the city Among these friends to dwell. And they in turn cry " Welcome ! " They greet me with a song : " The sky, and air, and sunshine, Alike to all belong " A truth men have forgotten, Or have to study yet, Or, is it that they know it, And study to forget ? They dole out air and sunshine, By race, and creed, and birth ; They cannot share God's heaven, They cannot share man's earth. I come to thee, O woodland, In search of peace and rest ; The greedy town and people Begloom my weary breast. "HOW FAIR . . ." 57 " HOW FAIR . . ." He who walks by the way . . . and says, " How fair is that tree or that field," is as if he had forfeited his soul. "Ethics of the Fathers." " WALKING by the way, when spring is Bright, and fresh, and mild, Say not : Oh, how fair the garden Or the field is, child. " All on earth is vain, remember, All has but one goal, Saying : Oh, how fair the garden You forego your soul." " Rabbi, dear, your words are sacred Truth I can't conceal I say not, How fair the garden, But I feel, I feel ! " Feel the breeze that soothes, entrances, Like a golden dream ; Feel the flowers shedding perfume In a fragrant stream. 58 SONGS OF A JEW " Hear the rippling brooklet whisper, And its tongue I know ; Not a word ! in heart emotions Sea-like ebb and flow. " Feel the sky a crystal ocean Hanging overhead ; Hear on stairs of light in azure, Heaven's angels tread. " And I feel my heart with rapture Filling to the brim ; In a wave of sounds and sunbeams I immerse and swim. " Then in lap of Mother-Nature, Like a child, I sink ; From her bosom pure sweet nectar Thirstily I drink. " Living wonders in the garden I see scattered round, But remain a silent witness Utter not a sound. I SING LIKE A BIRD IN THE SKY 59 " Rabbi, dear, your words are sacred Truth I can't conceal ; I say not, How fair the garden, But I feel, I feel." I SING LIKE A BIRD IN THE SKY I SING like a bird in the sky, Not knowing, not reasoning why ; I sing like the breezes in spring, I sing when my soul bids me sing. Whosoever may start songs and tunes in my heart I sing like a bird in the sky. I sing like the brook and the stream, And free is my heart-woven dream ; My song from within is ordained, And fountain-like flows unrestrained. When with joys or with woes my full heart overflows, I sing like the brook and the stream. 60 SONGS OF A JEW I sing like the stars in the night, When weaving their motions of light ; I sing with all Nature around, I sing, for to sing I am bound.. With no aim and no goal, from the soul of my soul, I sing like the stars in the night. A DEAD BIRD I WALKED in the wood, And the bird-songs I heard, So shrill and so sweet, And my heart was so stirred ! Beneath in the grass Lay a dead little bird. I gazed at the bird That lay mute on the ground ; I heard the sweet songs That were thrilling around ; " Dead singer," I mused, " Who now misses thy sound ? " THE SPRING SKY 61 Where be now the sweet tunes In the wood thou hast shed ? New singers, new notes, Have taken thy stead ; Who misses his song When the singer is dead ? My fate, little songster, To thine will be like : When my hour for silence Eternal shall strike The song and the singer Will vanish alike. THE SPRING SKY I LOVE you, O spring sky, So pure and so mild, Your smiles and your tears are The moods of a child. Your smiles are so beamy, Your tears are so pearly, I rise in the morning To look at you early, 62 SONGS OF A JEW And whether I find that You smile or you cry, I cannot but love you O child-looking sky. SONGS AND TEARS IN the depth of my heart, On its grief-riddled bed, There are songs yet unsung, There are tears yet unshed. But the songs and the tears, In one multitude throng, Till instead of a tear, Sometimes bursts out a song. And the sound of a song In my soul when I hear, From my heart to my eye Rolls a grief-laden tear. I WILL NOT CHANGE But at times they combine, Flow together along, Then I cannot guess which Is a tear, which a song. I WILL NOT CHANGE I WILL not change my path with you, O worshippers of gold ! My path is rough, but heaven-lit, And yours is smooth, but cold. In your resplendent halls each night The ghost of envy strides, Whilst in the castle of my heart The living God resides. My heart is young, though youth is gone ; Your hearts in youth are old ; I will not change one golden dream For all your dreams of gold. 64 SONGS OF A JEW A SONG SAY not, child, that in these songs You have read a part Of the hopes and dreams that once Filled the singer's heart. Child, the poet's fairest dreams Reach no mortal ears, For the sweetness of his songs Only his soul hears. Of his heart-begotten flame Words are cast-off shades, And as rubies shine in rocks, Pearls in ocean glades, So the poet's deepest dreams, Love, and joy, and pain, Unexpressed in mortal words, In his heart remain. TO 65 TO WHEN I was young, and strong, and pure, I offered you my heart, But you declined . . . since then our ways Have lain fore'er aoart. u i T vru vjv^^iiii^vj. * *j*i j Have lain fore'er apart. My heart was broken. I was left Alone on earth to pine : My heart was broken, but the shreds Oh, were they yours or mine ? I did not know ; but once I took The tiny, crumbling parts, And made a song of each . . . my songs Are tiny broken hearts. . . . I sing my song, but do not know To whom it should belong : It is not yours, it is not mine Pray, who will claim my song ? 66 SONGS OF A JEW BETRAYED THE night was still and starlit, Dumbly I gazed on high ; Only the stars in heaven Could hear my bosom's sigh. But the stars betrayed my secret ; My sorrow they revealed In the sky to every songbird, On earth to wood and field. And now each bud in the forest, Each fluttering blade and leaf, Croons and whispers and babbles My jealously-hidden grief. A TEAR AND A SMILE WHEN in your eye I saw a tear, You seemed, I know not why, A child of purer, higher worlds, A daughter of the sky. A TEAR AND A SMILE 67 I loved you, and I told you so ; But pardon me, my dear, I was misled I loved not you, I merely loved your tear. For in a while, when to a smile Your sparkling eyes gave birth, You stood a maid, like maidens all A daughter of the earth . I felt at once the spell was gone, I changed in one short while ; The flame you kindled with your tear You put out with your smile. But still, sometimes, I wonder why All chemistry to flout, Your humid tear could light a flame, Your glowing smile put out. 68 SONGS OF A JEW THE PROPOSAL HER I called " My beaming star." " Stars " she smiled " Are old and far." When I sunbeams Called her eyes, She grew vexed : " Why look to skies ? " Then I said : "Your heart is gold." " Metals," she Replied, "are cold." But I named her " Flower fair." " Flowers," said she, " Feed on air." THE PROPOSAL 69 Then I sighed : " My pretty dream." " Dreams," she laughed, " Are things that seem." When I bade her Take my heart, She arose, and Did depart. Then a stranger Came her way, Many words he Did not say, Neither called her Gold or pearl, But he led off My fair girl. 70 SONGS OF A JEW A SPRING-NIGHT DREAM THAT spring night through silver We saw the moon sail, The sky-princess wearing A dream-woven veil. The sky-princess wearing A dream-woven veil, She dreamily told us Love's wonderful tale She dreamily told us Love's wonderful tale. How sweet was, oh, child, then, Thy breath to inhale ! How sweet was, oh, child, then, Thy breath to inhale, Like nectar of lilies That grew down the vale. A SPRING-NIGHT DREAM 71 Like nectar of lilies That grew down the vale, The lilies and lovers Who'll dare to assail ? " The lilies and lovers Who'll dare to assail ? " Thus sang us each streamlet, Each hill, and each dale. Thus sang us each streamlet, Each hill, and each dale, But youth is so short, and Our bliss is so frail. Our youth is so short, and Our bliss is so frail, Like shadows they flitted, Leaving pain in their trail. Like shadows they flitted, Leaving pain in their trail, And left us in sunder Our dream to bewail. 72 SONGS OF A JEW TO YOU ONCE we felt at parting lonely, Meetings were so sweet ; Now once more we feel so lonely Only when we meet. . . . Once at parting we would trifle, But our hearts would cry ; Now we part and sigh, but truly Hearts and eyes are dry. . . . Once it used to be a mystery, Now it seems so plain ; Once we could not, now we would not All the truth explain. A DREAM A GOLDEN dream I had in May ; Both youth and dream Have passed away. A PLEDGE 73 My dream is lost, My youth is o'er ; I mourn them both, My dream the more. A youthless life Still real may seem ; But what is life Without a dream ? A PLEDGE I PLEDGED my soul on high, And borrowed Love's fair dream, But lost my dream on earth, What will my pledge redeem ? Now, forfeited, my soul Remains a pledge above, Whilst I on earth in vain Still seek the dream of love. 74 SONGS OF A JEW TWO SORROWS MY heart was young and cheerful, Life's care I did not know ; Then came the grief of mankind, And filled my heart with woe. Now fate, with years, has brought me, My own deep grief and pain, And now my heart is bursting It cannot both contain. And as I feel it bursting, I call to heav'n and pray : O God, take mankind's sorrow, Or else take mine away ! MY HEART FATE, the heartsmith, on his anvil, Had my glowing heart, Struck and beat it with his hammer, And the sparks did dart, In the smithy's puddles falling Spark by spark. VALE 75 When the heart grew cold and hardened, Fate, the heartsmith, spoke : " Take thy heart, it was not fitted For its earthly yoke ; Take it back I've made it human Hard and dark." VALE I WEEP for the morning, the fresh, breezy morning, So bracing, so sweet, and so bright ; I weep for the morning, the fair, sunny morning, That passed into night. I weep for the flowers, the sun-cherished flowers, With fragrance my garden that filled ; I weep for the flowers, the tender, sweet flowers, Cold Autumn has killed. I weep for the dreams, and the hopes, and the longings, With rapture my heart that once filled ; I weep for the dreams, and the hopes, and the longings, Now faded and chilled. 76 SONGS OF A JEW I weep for the heart that so deeply, so truly, Has loved, and of love known the pain ; I weep for the heart that could love and could suffer, And suffered in vain. I ASKED THE STARS I ASKED the stars in heaven, One still and star-lit night : " Oh, wherefore, tell me, wherefore So pale and cold your light ? " " I know that you are light-worlds, A globe each seeming spark ; Such hosts of you shine on us, Why is our earth so dark ? " " I know that you are flame-worlds, A sun each dot of gold ; Such hosts of you are burning, Why is our earth so cold ? " I ASKED THE STARS 77 The stars they did not answer We stood so far apart A voice replied beside me : " Enquire within your heart ! " Your heart it, too, is star-like, A world that seems a spark ; It, too, sheds rays around it Why is your path so dark ? " It, too, has skiey longings, And golden dreams untold, It, too, is burning, burning, Why is your life so cold ? " In vain, the poet's questions I heard within my breast ; The heart and stars are riddles, No mortal ever guessed. 78 SONGS OF A JEW CHILDREN HERE they are, my little darlings, All their merry throng ; Each of them a sportive fairy, Each a living song. Voices golden harps sweet sounding ; Eyes transparent streams, Deep and sparkling, and reflecting, Heaven's purest beams. Little teeth carved pearly jewels, Waving gold their hair ; Merry laughter bells of silver, Ringing in the air. Songs they are, the little darlings, Songs devoid of themes ; When I see them play, there spring up All my childhood's dreams. A RAY 79 A RAY IN his cot my little boy Lay so pale and weak, And a golden ray of light Played upon his cheek. " Have you come down from the sky- Tell me, golden ray Just to kiss my darling boy, Take his pain away ? Have the guardian angels, then, Sent you from above, Just to cheer my ailing pet, Bring him heaven's love ? Or, perchance, you have been sent, Just to close his eye, And to take his angel soul Back into the sky ? " Silent was the golden ray, Silent was I too ; But my darling's pallid face Paler, paler grew. 8o SONGS OF A JEW MY MOTHER'S SONG A CRADLE-SONG my mother sang ; So deep, so sweet, so sad it rang. Of mother I am long bereft, But why is still her sadness left, To live in every song of mine In every line? O mother, dear, Where did you hear That air that taught your darling lad A song so sad ? And where have I the sadness found ? In mother's voice, or word, or sound, Or in her melancholy mood, Or in her pearly tear that stood In eye, and trembled ere it fell ? I cannot tell ! The song I never understood, And strange to me was mother's mood ; The words I have forgotten long, The voice is silent, like the song ; THE DYING POET 81 The eye is closed ; the tear is dry ; The sadness cannot die. And in my happiest moods and dreams, I ever hear that song, meseems, And when I muse of love and bliss I never miss That lullaby of sadness deep And weep. THE DYING POET 1 WHITE the robe, and white the " Sister," Bed and linen likewise white ; On his bed lies pale the Singer, In his eyes dies out the light. White the face, and white the pillow, But his lips and eyes are dark ; By his bed I stand in anguish, See the last expiring spark. 1 After the Yiddish. 82 SONGS OF A JEW " Comrade, see, I bring you flowers Tokens of the world's esteem ; Tell me, comrade, what you wish for, And of what it is you dream." But he looks, with eyes imploring, Murmurs something, hard to hear ; Smiling gloomily and faintly, Beckons, whispers in my ear. " All is over. . . . Drama ended . . . Far too early came the end. . . . Have you, brother, yet looked over, My new poem in The Friend ? " ' Life and Youth ' you must have read it There two syllables are wrong . . . 'Tis not my fault . . . 'Tis a misprint . . . They have spoiled that charming song. . " ' Life and Youth ' my latest poem, Written but a week ago ; Just two syllables are missing, Brother, let the people know. . . . Tell them, pray, it is an error . . . Just an error . . ." DISILLUSION 83 " Dearest friend ! Your last wish shall be respected, I your honour must defend. 'Gainst your ' Life and Youth,' misprinted, None shall breathe a word of blame. That the world may not misjudge you, This I solemnly proclaim : In the Jewish ' Life and Youth ' song, Sung amidst our cruel strife, Just two syllables are missing : One is Youth and one is Life ! . . ." DISILLUSION I, TOO, have built enchanted towers And phantom castles in the air, I, too, have dreamt of fragrant flowers That ever sweet remain and fair. I, too, believed in treasures hidden In love and youth that never fade, But in the flowered groves of Eden How short a time, O friend, I stayed ! 84 SONGS OF A JEW Long ere I climbed youth's magic steeple, I knew life's sorrows, tears, and pains ; I saw a great and ancient people That freed the world in servile chains. I saw it racked, and cursed, and banished, For teaching mankind Love and Truth, And one by one my sweet dreams vanished Together with my youthless youth. And in the sound of fetters' rattle, And in the groans of slaves meseems, I hear a voice : " In life's fierce battle, O child, there is no room for dreams." MY FAITH I BELIEVE, O my friend, That the day will arrive When all nations for peace And for justice will strive. MY FAITH 85 When in kindness and truth Soul will answer to soul, And when Love in her grace Will the peoples control. When man, humbled, enslaved, Will raise proudly his head, When no groans will be heaved And no tears will be shed. O my friend, I believe In life's heavenly goal, In the height of man's mind, In the depth of man's soul ; In the triumph of truth, In all mankind's re-birth, In the kingdom of light, In the glory on earth. That bright beacon, dear friend, Through our fog gleams to me ; But between oh, between, What a stormy, wild sea ! 86 SONGS OF A JEW And the sea is so deep With its tears, in its glooms ; And the shore, that bright shore, So remotely it looms. And the gale is so fierce, And so dark is the night, And the fog is so dense, And so faint is the light ; That I know, O dear friend, Nor for you nor for me, Tis that shore to attain Through this turbulent sea. HARP AND SWORD I HAVE no armour, helm, or shield From Life's sore darts to save me ; My weapon in this battlefield Is but the harp God gave me. HARP AND SWORD 87 He gave me, too, a heart to sigh And pine and bleed for others, When from the field I hear the cry : " Help ! help ! we are your brothers." It thrills me through with anguish sharp To leave their call unheeded ; " Of what avail," they say, " your harp, Where spear and sword are needed ? " I cannot meet their burning eyes That righteous wrath betoken ; Shamed, dumb, I stand in sorry wise, My harp and heart are broken. Printed at The Edinburgh Press 9 and II Young Street. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-50m-7,'54(5990)444 THE LB3RART iMIYEKSITY OF JLOS ANGELES PS Raskin - 3535 Songs of a Rl337so NOV PS 3535 Rl837so A 001 247 559 6