Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, IN EXILE, by MORRIS ROSENFELD



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IN EXILE, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Go, with the wand'rer's staff in hand
Last Line: Lo, there will cease the tyrant's rod.
Subject(s): Exiles; Jews; Jews - Exodus From Egypt; Wandering & Wanderers; Zionism; Judaism


GO, with the wand'rer's staff in hand,
Without a home, without a land,
Without to-morrow, or to-day,
Ne'er tolerated, e'er in flight
Not found by day where lodged by night.
Forever woe, woe, woe,
Forever go, go, go,
Forever drive, drive, drive,
The time we barely keep alive.

Our greatness lieth in the dust;
Our holy life—a life unjust;
Our glorious name—a danger great;
Our proud descent—a cause for hate;
Our genius—nothing but a crime;
Our culture—scoffed at all the time.
E'er troubles grave, grave, grave,
Forever slave, slave, slave,
E'er seek to know, know, know,
Joys in the curses of the foe.

And thus year after year, alas,
Yea, thus age after age doth pass
Without a hope, without a goal,
While dread and terror fill our soul,
As wildly wandering we go,
From pain to pain, from woe to woe,
E'er on the way, way, way,
Forever sigh, sigh, sigh,
And luckless e'en when we die.

But from our ancient city thus
Beckons our ancient God to us,
Whose voice conveys this message blest,
"Come here, at last you'll find your rest!
Yea, here, at last upon your desolate hill
The son of Judah dreameth still."
Then hear Him call, call, call,
Go, seek the Temple's ancient wall,
Yea, trust in God, God, God,
Lo, there will cease the tyrant's rod.





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