Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A FLOW'RET IN THE GARLAND; FOR OUT GREAT CENTENARIAN, by MIRIAM DEL BANCO


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A FLOW'RET IN THE GARLAND; FOR OUT GREAT CENTENARIAN, by                    
First Line: Somewhere I have read or heard it
Last Line: For thy gift — for montefiore.
Subject(s): Angels; God; Heaven; Montefiore, Moses Haim (1784-1885); Prayer; Religion; Paradise; Theology


SOMEWHERE I have read or heard it —
Heard it, — though I know not where, —
That each pray'r we breathe for others,
Wings its way to Heaven's stair;
But the words, on reaching Heaven,
Are transformed to flowers bright,
And are gathered by the angels
Waiting near the gates of light.

Many years these flow'rs of prayer
Up to God have winged their way, —
Flowers that the white-robed angels
Bind into a crown to-day; —
Bind into a thousand garlands
Draped, to-day, from shore to shore,
For all races, creeds and nations
Honor Moses Montefiore.

Hail to thee! Great Centenarian!
Hundred years have left their trace:
Heaven's kiss upon thy forehead —
Heaven's smile upon thy face!
Rich and poor, from king to peasant,
Earnestly beseech — implore
With a thousand heartfelt voices:
"God bless Moses Montefiore."

And while Israel sings his praise,
And while nations 'found him throng,
While the skies are flushed with glory
And the angels join in song,
Countless spirits, soft and silent,
Flit before him, unaware,
Crowd around, above, behind him,
Stand, unknown, beside his chair.

CHARITY, in garments glist'ning
With the tears of sweet relief,
Softly kisses him, — her brother —
Sweetly blesses him, — her chief;
Prays to Time: "O, touch him gently!"
Pleads with Death: "Ah, pass him o'er!"
"There are saints enough in heaven, —
"Spare yet Moses Montefiore!"

Justice, Mercy, Truth and Kindness —
One by one they gather near,
All invisible they tarry
'Mid the throng assembled here;
Then, when off they flit toward heaven,
Sev'ral of their shining rank
Trace these words, in glowing letters,
O'er the heavens: "THINK AND THANK."

Think, ye poor, in frigid Russia,
Of the hand that brought relief!
Braving e'en a Czar's displeasure,
Pitifully dried your grief!
Think, ye sons of far Morocco,
Of the suffering you bore
Till the old man came to aid you; —
Think, — then thank for Montefiore!

God of Israel! Hear the prayer
Of the poor o'er all the earth!
Hear the blessings of all mankind
On the hour that gave him birth!
Long as shall the ocean's ripples
Break upon his country's shore,
Earth will think of him and thank Thee
For thy gift — for Montefiore.





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