(The above poem was suggested by the reading of an article describing an interview with the “wandering Jew,” in which he was represented as an incorrigible grumbler. The Jew has been, and will continue to be, the grumbler of earth—until the prophetic ideal of justice shall be realized: “ Blessed be he. ”)
“Go on.”—“ Thou shalt go on till I come.”
Pale, ghostly Vision from the coffined years,
Planting the cross with thy world-wandering feet,
Stern Watcher through the centuries’ storm and beat,
In those sad eyes, between those grooves of tears—
Those eyes like caves where sunlight never dwells
And stars but dimly shine—stand sentinels
That watch with patient hope, through weary days,
That somewhere, sometime, He indeed may “come,”
And thou at last find thee a resting place,
Blast-driven leaf of Man, within the tomb.
Aye, they have cursed thee with the bitter curse,
And driven thee with scourges o’er the world;
Tyrants have crushed thee, Ignorance has hurled
Its black anathema;—but Death’s pale hearse,
That bore them graveward, passed them silently;
And vainly didst thou stretch thy hands and cry,
“Take me instead”;—not yet for thee the time,
Not yet—not yet: thy bruised and mangled limbs
Must still drag on, still feed the Vulture, Crime,
With bleeding flesh, till rust its steel beak dims.
Aye, “till He come,”— He—freedom, justice, peace —
Till then shalt thou cry warning through the earth,
Unheeding pain, untouched by death and birth,
Proclaiming “Woe, woe, woe,” till men shall cease
To seek for Christ within the senseless skies,
And, joyous, find him in each other’s eyes.
Then shall be builded such a tomb for thee
Shall beggar kings’ as diamonds outshine dew!
The Universal Heart of Man shall be
The sacred urn of “the accursed Jew.”
Philadelphia, 1894 .