Emma Lazarus: Всі вірші поета

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A Masque Of Venice

(A Dream.)

Not a stain,

In the sun-brimmed sapphire cup that is the sky—

Not a ripple on the black translucent lane

Of the palace-walled lagoon.

Not a cry

As the gondoliers with velvet oar glide by,

Through the golden afternoon.

by Emma Lazarus

Afternoon

Small, shapeless drifts of cloud

Sail slowly northward in the soft-hued sky,

With blur half-tints and rolling summits bright,

By the late sun caressed; slight hazes shroud

All things afar; shineth each leaf anigh

With its own warmth and light.

O'erblown by Southland airs,

The summer landscape basks in utter peace:

by Emma Lazarus

Bar Kochba

Weep, Israel! your tardy meed outpour

Of grateful homage on his fallen head,

That never coronal of triumph wore,

Untombed, dishonored, and unchapleted.

If Victory makes the hero, raw Success

The stamp of virtue, unremembered

Be then the desperate strife, the storm and stress

Of the last Warrior Jew. But if the man

by Emma Lazarus

Symphonic Studies (After Schumann)

Prelude

Blue storm-clouds in hot heavens of mid-July

Hung heavy, brooding over land and sea:

Our hearts, a-tremble, throbbed in harmony

With the wild, restless tone of air and sky.

Shall we not call im Prospero who held

In his enchanted hands the fateful key

Of that tempestuous hour's mystery,

by Emma Lazarus

St Michael's Chapel

When the vexed hubbub of our world of gain

Roars round about me as I walk the street,

The myriad noise of Traffic, and the beat

Of Toil's incessant hammer, the fierce strain

Of struggle hand to hand and brain to brain,

Ofttimes a sudden dream my sense will cheat,

The gaudy shops, the sky-piled roofs retreat,

And all at once I stand enthralled again

by Emma Lazarus

Influence

The fervent, pale-faced Mother ere she sleep,

Looks out upon the zigzag-lighted square,

The beautiful bare trees, the blue night-air,

The revelation of the star-strewn deep,

World above world, and heaven over heaven.

Between the tree-tops and the skies, her sight

Rests on a steadfast, ruddy-shining light,

High in the tower, an earthly star of even.

by Emma Lazarus

The Supreme Sacrifice

Well-nigh two thousand years hath Israel

Suffered the scorn of man for love of God;

Endured the outlaw's ban, the yoke, the rod,

With perfect patience. Empires rose and fell,

Around him Nebo was adored and Bel;

Edom was drunk with victory, and trod

On his high places, while the sacred sod

Was desecrated by the infidel.

by Emma Lazarus

The New Ezekiel

What, can these dead bones live, whose sap is dried

By twenty scorching centuries of wrong?

Is this the House of Israel, whose pride

Is as a tale that's told, an ancient song?

Are these ignoble relics all that live

Of psalmist, priest, and prophet? Can the breath

Of very heaven bid these bones revive,

Open the graves and clothe the ribs of death?

by Emma Lazarus

By The Waters Of Babylon

I. THE EXODUS. (August 3, 1492.)

1. The Spanish noon is a blaze of azure fire, and the dusty

pilgrims crawl like an endless serpent along treeless plains and

bleached highroads, through rock-split ravines and castellated,

cathedral-shadowed towns.

2. The hoary patriarch, wrinkled as an almond shell, bows painfully

upon his staff. The beautiful young mother, ivory-pale, well-nigh

swoons beneath her burden; in her large enfolding arms nestles her

by Emma Lazarus

Admetus: To my friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson

He who could beard the lion in his lair,

To bind him for a girl, and tame the boar,

And drive these beasts before his chariot,

Might wed Alcestis. For her low brows' sake,

Her hairs' soft undulations of warm gold,

Her eyes' clear color and pure virgin mouth,

Though many would draw bow or shiver spear,

Yet none dared meet the intolerable eye,

by Emma Lazarus

The Cranes of Ibicus

Here was a man who watched the river flow

Past the huge town, one gray November day.

Round him in narrow high-piled streets at play

The boys made merry as they saw him go,

Murmuring half-loud, with eyes upon the stream,

The immortal screed he held within his hand.

For he was walking in an April land

With Faust and Helen. Shadowy as a dream

by Emma Lazarus

From One Augur to Another

So, Calchas, on the sacred Palatine,

You thought of Mopsus, and o'er wastes of sea

A flower brought your message. I divine

(Through my deep art) the kindly mockery

That played about your lips and in your eyes,

Plucking the frail leaf, while you dreamed of home.

Thanks for the silent greeting! I shall prize,

Beyond June's rose, the scentless flower of Rome.

by Emma Lazarus