| |
| WITH heads bowed down, they stand with streaming eyes, | |
| Before the ruined wall, whose grimy stones | |
| Are crumbling with the weight of centuries, | |
| And read their Mincha-prayer in mournful tones | |
| |
| That spring from hearts that grieve for Judah’s fate, | 5 |
| For Jacob’s seed whose loving memories dwell | |
| On splendors past, and, kneeling, supplicate | |
| That mercy may be shown to Israel. | |
| |
| Their garb proclaims them men of many lands. | |
| Those dwell amid the northern snows, and these | 10 |
| Have wandered far from Yemen’s burning sands, | |
| Or sought their way across the western seas. | |
| |
| Not here alone do wailing figures stand! | |
| Not here alone do tears of sorrow flow! | |
| In every clime they beat, with clenched hand, | 15 |
| Against the stones of Israel’s wall of woe. | |
| |
| In every land there rises, stern and great, | |
| This self-same wail of torment and of fears, | |
| Its courses laid with stones of scorn and hate, | |
| And bonded with cement of blood and tears. | 20 |
| |
| But Judah should behold that brighter day, | |
| For which these kneeling pilgrims humbly plead, | |
| And like a star, on Zion’s bosom lay | |
| Her beautiful and shining golden head. | |
| |
| Her tattered robes shall turn to silken sheen, | 25 |
| Her shackles shall give way to golden chains, | |
| As from her temple-heights she views, serene, | |
| The flowers of peace that bloom in her domains. | |
| |
| Where Hermon’s snows shine down on Lebanon, | |
| Where Judah breaks the Dead Sea’s sullen peace, | 30 |
| Where rise the ruined towers of Ascalon, | |
| Or Carmel’s vines look on the midland seas. | |
| |
