My harp is on the willow-tree, <br />Else would I sing, O love, to thee <br /> A song of long-ago-- <br />Perchance the song that Miriam sung <br />Ere yet Judea's heart was wrung <br /> By centuries of woe. <br /> <br />I ate my crust in tears to-day, <br />As scourged I went upon my way-- <br /> And yet my darling smiled; <br />Ay, beating at my breast, he laughed-- <br />My anguish curdled not the draught-- <br /> 'T was sweet with love, my child! <br /> <br />The shadow of the centuries lies <br />Deep in thy dark and mournful eyes-- <br /> But, hush! and close them now; <br />And in the dreams that thou shalt dream <br />The light of other days shall seem <br /> To glorify thy brow! <br /> <br />Our harp is on the willow-tree-- <br />I have no song to sing to thee, <br /> As shadows round us roll; <br />But, hush and sleep, and thou shalt hear <br />Jehovah's voice that speaks to cheer <br /> Judea's fainting soul!<br /><br />Eugene Field<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/jewish-lullaby/
