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IN the land of Bethlehem Judah | |
Let us linger, let us wander; | |
Ephraths sorrow, Rachels pillar, | |
Lieth in the valley yonder; | |
And the yellow barley harvest | 5 |
Floods it with a golden glory. | |
Let us back into the old time, | |
Dreaming of her tender story, | |
Of her true hearts strong devotion, | |
From beyond the Dead Sea water, | 10 |
From the heathen land of Moab | |
Mahlons wife, and Maras daughter. | |
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On the terebinth and fig-tree | |
Suns of olden time are shining, | |
And the dark leaf of the olive | 15 |
Scarcely shows its silver lining; | |
For still noon is on the thicket, | |
Where the blue-neckd pigeons listen | |
To their own reproachful music; | |
And the red pomegranates glisten. | 20 |
As a queen a golden circlet, | |
As a maid might wear a blossom, | |
So the valley wears the cornfields | |
Heaving on her fertile bosom: | |
And the round grey hills stand oer them, | 25 |
All their terraced vineyards swelling, | |
Like the green waves of a forest, | |
Up to Davids royal dwelling. | |
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Lo! the princely-hearted Boaz | |
Moves among his reapers slowly, | 30 |
And the widowd child of Moab | |
Bends behind the gleaners lowly; | |
Gathering, gleaning as she goeth | |
Down the slopes, and up the hollows, | |
While the love of old Naomi, | 35 |
Like a guardian angel, follows; | |
And he speaketh words of kindness, | |
Words of kindness calm and stately, | |
Till he breaks the springs of gladness | |
That lay cold and frozen lately; | 40 |
And the love-flowers, that had faded | |
Deep within her bosom lonely, | |
Slowly open as he questions, | |
Soon for him to blossom only, | |
When that spring shall fill with music, | 45 |
Like an overflowing river, | |
All his homestead, and those flowers | |
Bloom beside his hearth for ever. | |
Mother of a line of princes, | |
Wrought into that races story, | 50 |
Whom the Godhead, breaking earthward, | |
Markd with an unearthly glory. | |
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Still he walks among the reapers: | |
The long day is nearly over, | |
And the lonely mountain partridge | 55 |
Seeks afar his scanty cover; | |
And the flocks of wild blue pigeons, | |
That had gleand behind the gleaner, | |
Find their shelter in the thicket; | |
And the cloudless sky grows sheener | 60 |
With a sudden flush of crimson, | |
Steeping in a fiery lustre | |
Every sheaf-top in the valley, | |
On the hill-side every cluster. | |
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Slowly, slowly fade, fair picture, | 65 |
Yellow lights and purple shadows, | |
On the valley, on the mountain, | |
And sweet Ruth among the meadows. | |
Yet delay, true heart, and teach us, | |
Pausing in thy matron beauty, | 70 |
Care of elders, love of kindred, | |
All unselfish thought and duty. | |
Linger, Boaz, noble-minded! | |
Teach us, haughty and unsparing, | |
Tender care for lowlier station, | 75 |
Kindly speech, and courteous bearing. | |
Still each softest, loveliest colour, | |
Shrine the form beloved and loving, | |
Heroine of our hearts first poem, | |
Through our childhoods dreamland moving; | 80 |
When the great old Bible opend, | |
And a pleasant pastoral measure, | |
As our mothers read the story, | |
Filld our infant hearts with pleasure. | |
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