He gave her Shushan[1] from the walls. She saw it not, and turned not back. Her eyes kept hunting through his soul As one may seek through battle black For one dear banner held on high, For one bright bugle in the rack. The scorn that loves the sexless stars: Traditions passionless and bright: The ten commands (to him unknown), The pillar of the fire by night:-- Flashed from her alabaster crown The while they kissed by candlelight. The rarest psalms of David came From her dropped veil (odd dreams to him). It prophesied, he knew not how, Against his endless armies grim. He saw his Shushan in the dust-- Far in the ages growing dim. Then came a glance of steely blue, Flash of her body’s silver sword. Her eyes of law and temple prayer Broke him who spoiled the temple hoard. The thief who fouled all little lands Went mad before her, and adored. The girl was Eve in Paradise, Yet Judith, till her war was won. All of the future tyrants fell In this one king, ere night was done, And Israel, captive then as now Ruled with tomorrow’s rising sun. And in the logic of the skies He who keeps Israel in his hand, The God whose hope for joy on earth The Gentile yet shall understand, Through powers like Esther’s steadfast eyes Shall free each little tribe and land. These verses were written for the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Philadelphia and read at their meeting, December 8, 1917. FOOTNOTES: [1] Shushan--the royal city. A MEDITATION ON THE SUN I Come, let us think upon the great that came Our spiritual solar-kings, whose fame Is quenchless in the lands of mental light, High planets in the vast historic game: Youths from the sky, they came in splendid flight. We hold to them as to our day and night, And by them measure out our moments here, Our greatness, littleness, and wrong and right. For like the sun, we carry yesteryears Within our wallets: all the ancient fears And scorns and triumphs woven in our cloaks, Our tall plumes bought with some lost race’s tears. Oh Sun, I wish that all the nations bright You ever looked upon were in my sight, That I had stood up in your royal car With your eye-rays to search out field and height: To see young David, leading forth his sheep, The Christ Child on the Hill of Nazareth sleep, To watch proud Dante climb the stranger’s stairs, To see the ocean round Columbus leap. And beauty absolute man’s heart has known In those old hills where the Greek blood was sown, They named you young Apollo in that day And served you well, and loved your chariot-throne. Would I had looked on Venice in her prime. And long had watched the prayerful Gothic time When Notre Dame arose, a mystery there In wicked good old Paris and its grime! II