YOU need no meed of praise in song or prose, No thing of bronze or marble to record How well you served the people and the Lord Long ere your head was hallowed by the snows Of four-score years. No respite nor repose Your right hand knew which flashed the spirit sword Of battle for the Maccabean host Against the foe that dared with vandal steel Profane the shrine. Your Mattathias zeal Still sways us by its intimate appeal. Yours is no wanton pride, no frenzied boast, But just the picket's password at his post. Yours is the right to challenge and repel The enemies that trouble Israel. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUTH IMPERTURBABLE by CONRAD AIKEN SPECIAL PLEADING by SIDNEY LANIER STREET-CRIES: 7. A SONG OF LOVE by SIDNEY LANIER TWO POEMS FROM THE WAR: 1 by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH DOMESDAY BOOK: ALMA BELL TO THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |