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Joseph Friedlander, comp. The Standard Book of Jewish Verse. 1917.

By Helen Hunt Jackson

Vashti

IN all great Shushan’s palaces was there

Not one, O Vashti, knowing thee so well,

Poor uncrowned queen, that he the world could tell

How thou wert pure and loyal-souled as fair?

How it was love which made thee bold to dare

Refuse the shame which madmen would compel?

Not one, who saw the bitter tears that fell

And heard thy cry heart-rending on the air:

“Ah me! My Lord could not this thing have meant!

He well might loathe me ever, if I go

Before these drunken princes as a show.

I am his queen; I come of king’s descent,

I will not let him bring our crown so low;

He will but bless me when he doth repent!”