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WHAT RABBI JEHOSHA SAID, — A WINTER-EVENING HYMN.
Hardest heart would call it very awful
ALL-SAINTS. When thou look'st at us and seest 0, what?
ONE feast, of holy days the crest, If we move away, thou sittest gazing I, though no Churchman, love to With those vague eyes at the seltsame keep, spot,
All-Saints, – the unknown good that And thou mutterest, thy hands thou
In God's still memory folded deep ; Seeing something, us thou seëst not. The bravely dumb that did their deed,
And scorned to blot it with a nane,
Men of the plain heroic breed, Strange it is that, in this open bright
That loved Heaven's silence more than Hess,
fame. Thou shouldst sit in such a narrow cell ; Strange it is that thou shouldst be so Such lived not in the past alone,
lonesome Where those are who love thee all so
But thread to-day the unheeding well;
street, Not so much of thee is left ainong us
And stairs to Sin and Famine known
Sing with the welcome of their feet; As the hum outliving the hushed bell.
The den they enter grows a shrine,
The grimy sash an oriel burns,
Their cup of water warms like wine, WHAT RABBI JEHOSHA SAID.
Their speech is filled from heavenly
Rabbi JEHOSHA lised to say
About their brows to me appears
An aureole traced in tenderest light, The rainbow-gleam of smiles through
tears In dying eyes, by them made bright, Of souls that shivered on the edge
Of that chill ford repassed no more, And in their nerey felt the pledge
And sweetness of the farther shore.
Rabbi Jehosha had the skill
A WINTER-EVENING HYMN TO MY
"T were glorious, no doubt, to be BEAUTY on my hearth-stone blazing!
While thou leapest fast and faster,
Elfish daughter of Apollo !
To serve in Vulcan's clangorous smithy
And admit thee to the hall
On our nights of festival, To our frozen earth conveyed :
Then, Cinderella, who could see For he swore I know not what ;
In thee the kitchen's stunted thrall ? Endless ease should be thy lot,
Once more a Princess lithe and tail, Pleasure that should never falter,
Thou dancest with a whispering tread, Lifelong play, and not a duty
While the bright marvel of thy head Save to hover o'er the altar,
In crinkling gold floats all abroad, Vision of celestial beauty,
And gloriously dost vindicate Fed with precious woods and spices ;
The legend of thy lineage great, Then, perfidious ! having got
Earth-exiled daughter of the Pythian Thee in the net of his devices,
god! Sold thee into endless slavery,
Now in the ample chimney-place,
To honor thy acknowledged race,
We crown thee high with laurel good,
Thy shining father's sacred wood, Thee, by nature wild and wavery,
Which, guessing thy ancestral right, Palpitating, evanescent
his dumb delight,
snaps As the shade of Dian's crescent,
And, at thy touch, poor outcast one,
Feels through his gladdened fibres go
Of instincts loyal to the sun.
O thou of home the guardian Lar,
And, when our earth hath wandered far Making thee eat, against thy will,
Into the cold, and deep
snow covers Blackest Pennsylvanian stone;
The walks of our New England lovers, But thou dost avenge thy doom,
Their sweet secluded evening-star ! For, from out thy catacomb,
"T was with thy rays the English Muse Day and night thy wrath is blown
Ripened her mild domestic hues ; In a withering simoom,
"T was by thy flicker that she conned And, adown that cavern drear,
The fireside wisdom that enrings Thy black pitfall in the floor,
With light from heaven familiar things; Staggers the lusty antique cheer,
By thee she found the homely faith
In whose mild eyes thy comfort stay th,
His earliest nest, but sits and sings
While children smooth his patient
stirs To stealthy insurrection creep,
Life in the withered words ! how swift While thy wittol masters sleep,
recede And burst in indiscerning ravage :
Time's shadows ! and how glows again Then how thou shak'st thy bacchant Through its dead mass the incandescent locks !