Classic Poem

Whenas we sat in Babylon,
the rivers round about,
And in remembrance of Zion
the tears for grief burst out.
We hanged our harps and instruments
the willow trees upon,
For in that place men for their use
had planted many one.

Then they to whom we prisoners were
said to us tauntingly:
Now let us hear your Hebrew songs
and pleasant melody.
Alas, said we, who can once frame
his sorrowful heart to sing
The praises of our loving God,
thus under the strange king.

But yet if I Jerusalem
out of my heart let slide,
Then let my fingers quite forget
the warbling harp to guide;
And let my tongue within my mouth
be tied for ever fast,
If that I joy before I see
thy full deliverance past.