Classic Poem

As one who, nightmare-waked, prepares to scream,
The beads of terror-damp upon his brow,
But, glimpsing streaks of golden dawn, the vow
Of Day to Life, takes heart—so, too, we deem
This vision out of darkness just a gleam,
Vouchsafed by Him to ease our pain. And now
What more can grace of God to us allow
Than making real our people's time-old dream?

O ageless city, dulled by suffering,
But never ruined, old when Tyre was young
And Carthage prospered. What wrought He with them?
Their dust will never see another spring,
Their pomp and splendor nevermore be sung—
But you may hope once more—Jerusalem!