Classic and Contemporary Poetry
AT THE PANTOMIME, by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: The house was crammed from roof to floor Last Line: "peace be upon thee, israel!" Subject(s): Pantomime | ||||||||
THE house was crammed from roof to floor, Heads piled on heads at every door; Half dead with August's seething heat I crowded on and found my seat, My patience slightly out of joint, My temper short of boiling-point, Not quite at Hate mankind as such, Nor yet at Love them overmuch. Amidst the throng the pageant drew Were gathered Hebrews not a few, Black-bearded, swarthy, -- at their side Dark, jewelled women, orient-eyed: If scarce a Christian hopes for grace Who crowds one in his narrow place, What will the savage victim do Whose ribs are kneaded by a Jew? Next on my left a breathing form Wedged up against me, close and warm; The beak that crowned the bistred face Betrayed the mould of Abraham's race, -- That coal-black hair, that smoke-brown hue, -- Ah, cursed, unbelieving Jew! I started, shuddering, to the right, And squeezed -- a second Israelite! Then woke the evil brood of rage That slumber, tongueless, in their cage; I stabbed in turn with silent oaths The hook-nosed kite of carrion clothes, The snaky usurer, him that crawls And cheats beneath the golden balls, Moses and Levi, all the horde, Spawn of the race that slew its Lord. Up came their murderous deeds of old, The grisly story Chaucer told, And many an ugly tale beside Of children caught and crucified; I heard the ducat-sweating thieves Beneath the Ghetto's slouching eaves, And, thrust beyond the tented green, The lepers cry, "Unclean! Unclean!" The show went on, but, ill at ease, My sullen eye it could not please, In vain my conscience whispered, "Shame! Who but their Maker is to blame?" I thought of Judas and his bribe, And steeled my soul against their tribe: My neighbors stirred; I looked again Full on the younger of the twain. A fresh young cheek whose olive hue The mantling blood shows faintly through; Locks dark as midnight, that divide And shade the neck on either side; Soft, gentle, loving eyes that gleam Clear as a starlit mountain stream; -- So looked that other child of Shem, The Maiden's Boy of Bethlehem! And thou couldst scorn the peerless blood That flows unmingled from the Flood, -- Thy scutcheon spotted with the stains Of Norman thieves and pirate Danes! The New World's foundling, in thy pride Scowl on the Hebrew at thy side, And lo! the very semblance there The Lord of Glory deigned to wear! I see that radiant image rise, The flowing hair, the pitying eyes, The faintly crimsoned cheek that shows The blush of Sharon's opening rose, -- Thy hands would clasp his hallowed feet Whose brethren soil thy Christian seat, Thy lips would press his garment's hem That curl in wrathful scorn for them! A sudden mist, a watery screen, Dropped like a veil before the scene; The shadow floated from my soul, And to my lips a whisper stole, -- "Thy prophets caught the Spirit's flame, From thee the Son of Mary came, With thee the Father deigned to dwell, -- Peace be upon thee, Israel!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FIRST PANTOMIME by JOHN HEWITT ROSE AND THE RING by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY SHORT CHRISTMAS PANTOMIME by UNKNOWN A BALLAD OF THE BOSTON TEA-PARTY [DECEMBER 16, 1773] by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES A SEA DIALOGUE by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES A SUN-DAY HYMN [OR LAMENT] by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES AFTER A LECTURE ON KEATS by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES BILL AND JOE by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES BIRTHDAY OF DANIEL WEBSTER by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES BOSTON COMMON: 1630 by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES |
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