| |
| SCARCE fifteen furlongs from the city-gates, | |
| Embayed among the green Judæan hills | |
| (Not yet the wrath was come to the uttermost | |
| Upon that land), like a dew-drop in a leaf | |
| Lay Bethany. Who knows not Bethany, | 5 |
| The town of Mary and her sister, loved | |
| By our dear Lord, what time his blessed feet | |
| Were known in Jewry? Who will place me there? | |
| What spirit that whilom wont with viewless wing | |
| Angelical, on ancient Olivet, | 10 |
| Temper the sultry wind of midsummer | |
| For the pale forehead of the Son of Man, | |
| Walking to Bethany, will bid the home, | |
| By him beloved, stand as then it stood | |
| Beneath the summer sky? No home, methinks, | 15 |
| Such as high fancy frames with delicate craft | |
| In the sunny Orient,—where the half-shut eye | |
| Sees the great stars and the transparent blue | |
| Betwixt two marble columns,—and around | |
| The rich red roses swing like wreaths of fire,— | 20 |
| And spouted water all night passioneth | |
| Its silver weeping in a purple shell. | |
| Not such a home in sooth, yet beautiful, | |
| With lovelier beauty. Prospect is there thence | |
| Of the Holy City, joy of all the earth, | 25 |
| Theatre of miracles and of mysteries; | |
| And of that fane with all its marble pomp, | |
| Which, moonlight-touched, might seem a great white rose | |
| Worn in the night-dark hair of goddess old. | |
| There to that home in Bethany came up | 30 |
| The city murmurs,—murmurs of that sea | |
| Which roars or sobs forever in the streets, | |
| With every drop of every wave a life; | |
| And there the arméd heel and ringing tread | |
| Of Pilate’s sentinels, pacing to and fro, | 35 |
| Was almost heard upon a quiet eve. | |
| But to that home came too, forevermore, | |
| Or came, or seemed to come,—an echo, blent | |
| With Kedron’s murmurs of the mighty music | |
| Up from the Temple, that had panted round | 40 |
| Fragrant and fadeless flowers, that live on | |
| Steeped in the eternal sunset of their gold, | |
| With incense rolling round about like clouds, | |
| And silver lamps hung over them like stars, | |
| And chants that hurried by them like a river; | 45 |
| There, too, were things wherewith the childlike East | |
| Is well content to entertain the hours,— | |
| Garden and grove, and marble to allure | |
| The fountain,—and a sepulchre hard by. * * * * * | |
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