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Home  »  The Standard Book of Jewish Verse  »  The Jewish May

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

By Morris Rosenfeld

The Jewish May

MAY has come from out the showers,

Sun and splendor in her train.

All the grasses and the flowers

Waken up to life again.

Once again the leaves do show

And the meadow’s blossoms blow,

Once again through hills and dales

Rise the songs of nightingales.

Wheresoe’er on field and hillside,

With her paint-brush Spring is seen

In the valley, by the rillside,

All the earth is decked with green.

Once again the sun beguiles—

Moves the drowsy world to smiles.

See! the sun with mother-kiss

Wakes her child to joy and bliss.

Now each human feeling presses

Flower like, upward to the sun,

Softly through the heart’s recesses

Steal sweet fancies one by one.

Golden dreams their wings outshaking

Now are making

Realms celestial

All of azure

New life waking

Bringing treasure

Out of measure

For the soul’s delight and pleasure.

Who then, tell me, old and sad,

Nears us with a heavy tread

On the sward in verdure clad,

Lonely is the strange newcomer;

Wearily he walks and slow,

His sweet springtime and his summer

Faded long and long ago.

Say, who is it yonder walks

Past the hedgerows decked anew,

While a fearful spectre stalks

By his side thy woodland through—

’Tis our ancient friend the Jew!

No sweet fancies hover round him,

Naught but terror and distress;

Wounds unhealed

Where lie revealed

Ghosts of former recollections,

Corpses, corpses, old affections,

Buried youth and happiness.

Bier and blossom bow to meet him

In derision round his path;

Gloomily the hemlocks greet him

And the crow screams out in wrath.

Strange the birds and strange the flowers,

Strange the sunshine seems and dim,

Folk on earth and heavenly powers!—

Lo, the May is strange to him.

Little flowers, it were meeter,

If ye made not quite so bold;

Sweet ye are, but oh, far sweeter

Knew he in the days of old.

Oranges by thousands blowing

Filled his groves on either hand,

All the plants were God’s own sowing

In his far-off happy land.

Ask the cedars on the mountain,

Ask them for they know him well!

Myrtles green by Sharon’s fountain

In whose shade he loved to dwell.

Ask the Mount of Olives beauteous,—

Ev’ry tree by ev’ry stream,

One and all will answer duteous

For the fair and ancient dream.

O’er the desert and the pleasance

Gales of Eden softly blew,

And the Lord His loving Presence

Evermore declared anew.

Angel children at their leisure,

Played in thousands round His tent

Countless thoughts of joy and pleasure

Go to His beloved sent.

There in bygone days and olden

From a wonderous harp and golden

Charmed he music spirit-haunting,

Holy, chaste and soul-enchanting;

Never with the ancient sweetness,

Never in its old completeness

Shall it sound; his dream is ended

On a willow bough suspended.

Gone that dream so fair and fleeting!

Yet behold; thou dreamst anew;

Hark a new May gives thee greeting

From afar. Dost hear it Jew?

Weep no more, although with sorrows

Bow’d e’en to the grave; I see

Happier years and brighter morrows

Dawning, Israel, for thee!

Hear’st thou not the promise ring

Where, like doves on silvery wing,

Thronging cherubs sweetly sing,

New made songs of what shall be?

Hark! your olives shall be shaken

And your citrons and your limes

Filled with fragrance. God shall waken,

Lead you as in olden times;

In the pastures by the river

Ye once more your flocks shall tend,

Ye shall live and live forever

Happy lives that know no end.

No more wandering, no more sadness;

Peace shall be your lot and still,

Hero hearts shall throb with gladness

’Neath Moriah’s silent hill.

Nevermore of dread affliction

Or oppression need ye tell,

Filled with joy and benediction

In the old home ye shall dwell.

To the fatherland returning

Following the homeward path,

Ye shall find the embers burning

Still upon the ruined hearth!