Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ISAAC M. WISE, by WALTER HURT


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ISAAC M. WISE, by                    
First Line: He came into the camp of creed
Last Line: To lay upon his hallowed tomb.
Subject(s): Death; Heroism; Honor; Jews; Memory; Wise, Isaac Mayer (1819-1900); Dead, The; Heroes; Heroines; Judaism


HE came into the Camp of Creed,
The Sword of Strength within his hand,
To scatter forth the bigot breed
And smite them from the Promised Land;
To hew each hoary falsehood down
And humble ancient arrogance,
And Error fled before his frown
While Truth was glad beneath his glance.

He labored where his Duty led—
Unflinching stood in ev'ry storm
That beat about his fearless head,
And thundered forth the word "Reform!"
Earth's farthest nations heard his voice
Unto the utmost purple seas,
And all found reason to rejoice
From Polar lands to Pyrenees.

From depths of long, nigrescent nights
We grasp the gospel that he gave,
A message come from starry heights,
Sent forth to succor and to save.
If Jew or Gentile matters not,
For rights and righteousness of each,
Alike was wrought his toiling thought,
And flamed the splendor of his speech.

Our reaching reason gropes along
His lofty path toward the light,
Consoled and strengthened by the song
His spirit sends us from his flight.
We pray our searching souls may find
The higher things for which he stood—
He fought for freedom of the mind
And for a broader brotherhood.

A modern Moses sent to lead
His people up to lustrous lands,
To free them from the chains of creed
And superstition's cruel bands;
To guide uncertain feet from out
The darkened paths in which they stray,
Amid the desert sands of doubt
Unto the everlasting day.

He told not of God's wrath, but taught
The lesson of His love instead,
Till narrow tenets came to naught
And fierce fanaticism fled.
Who knew his mental majesty,
Or felt his nature's gentle grace,
From pious prejudice was free
Nor nursed a senseless hate of race.

Yes, he was great as men are great
Who scorn the cramping lines of creed,
Who leave us still our earth's estate
Yet fill our nature's inmost need.
And so with each recurring Spring,
While roses blow and lilies bloom,
The world will tender tribute bring
To lay upon his hallowed tomb.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net