| |
| ADOWN the vista of the long ago, | |
| Like crimson flowers anod on slender stems, | |
| Or like the gleam of iridescent gems | |
| That half-concealed along the wayside glow, | |
| Good deeds and great, and impulses divine | 5 |
| Mark man’s endeavor on the paths of time. | |
| |
| Whene’er a noble deed is sung by Fame, | |
| A flush of joy enkindles east and west; | |
| Yea, half-unconsciously, all earth is blessed, | |
| Since each life hath on every heart a claim. | 10 |
| Doth not the rose await the butterfly, | |
| The brook assume the blue of summer sky? | |
| |
| Thus on the path of time a glowing light, | |
| That gave its aid to weary, struggling men, | |
| Reflected was again and yet again, | 15 |
| E’en a lamp between two mirrors bright; | |
| And clearly burned that beacon-light wherewith | |
| Men learned thy life, thy love, B’nai B’rith. | |
| |
| For to the lonely widow’s bare abode | |
| Thou bringest comfort, thou the tear dost dry | 20 |
| On pallid orphan cheek; the sufferer’s cry | |
| Has touched thy tender heart as with a goad; | |
| The darkened chamber where the sick repose, | |
| Thy helpful hand, thy cheering presence, knows. | |
| |
| And e’en to realms far, far across the seas, | 25 |
| Where Hunger toils, yet cannot ease its want, | |
| Where chatt’ring Cold is clad in garments scant, | |
| And dark Oppression reigns,—for even these | |
| Thy strong right hand has snapped the iron rod, | |
| And ’mid fierce conflict claimed a truce of God. | 30 |
| |
| Here did thy foot, on Freedom’s daisied turf, | |
| For far Roumania’s child a refuge seek | |
| From fire, from sword, from crimes we dare not speak; | |
| Here manhood crowned the erstwhile cowering serf. | |
| And thou didst teach him glorious liberty: | 35 |
| Hark! the refrain, “My country, ’tis of thee!” | |
| |
| Ne’er has that country summoned thee in vain; | |
| Thy soul rose ever, ready at her call, | |
| Poor wind-swept Galveston, ’neath ruined wall, | |
| Found swift relief from hunger, want and pain. | 40 |
| No tardy charity thy offering mars— | |
| Brothers are all beneath the Stripes and Stars. | |
| |
| And now the pearl of fifty-seven years | |
| Glides on the slender golden thread of time; | |
| The while lost voices through our converse chime, | 45 |
| We see loved faces through a mist of tears— | |
| The friends who worked beside us long ago, | |
| Who slumber where the waning grasses grow. | |
| |
| Their hearts conceived a glorious brotherhood | |
| Of friendship and of love—a power that glides | 50 |
| From man to man, and yet fore’er abides, | |
| The pioneers of progress they, who stood | |
| Upon the starry mountain peaks of time, | |
| And saw the future in a light sublime. | |
| |
| Their task is done; they gave our outstretched hands | 55 |
| The silken banner and the silvery horn, | |
| On! upward, then! A golden age is born! | |
| A century its magic flower expands! | |
| On life’s great summits seek ye out its birth, | |
| And with its bloom and fragrance fill the earth. | 60 |
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