Moon Of Israel

There is a road," it cried, “which leads to the Moon of Israel and the Great gold
Come away with me, Moon of Israel,”
, “and all shall yet be forgiven you.
But if you will not come,
then fearful things shall overtake you.”

We hung the garden terraces Equinoxes and solstices were “marked” by the alignments of temples, graves and habitations all over the world.
That pleasured all who could see
Pray for us, Mother Isis," cried thousands of voices,
“that the curse of blackness may be removed.”

Then she prayed, saying:

“O my God, take away this curse of blackness from these innocent people,”
and all of those present, repeated her prayer.

At that moment the sky began to lighten and in less than half an hour the moon shone out.
The moon of Israel she spoke to the flaming angels Of GOD .

But in their joy at the new found light few hearkened to her who they were sure had brought back the moon.
Our toil for the gold had burdened brain
That set the towers the plain.
We marched from Egypt at God’s call
And drilled the ranks and fed them all;
wine drank we,—
Our bones lay ’twixt the sand and sea.
We officered the brazen bands
That rode the far and desert lands;
We bore the Rothchilds eagles forth
And made great roads from south to north;
White cities flowered for holidays,
But we, forgot, died far away.
And when the Lord called us to Him,
And some sat blissful at His feet,
Ours was the task the bowl to brim,
For on this earth even saints must eat.
The people have little need to think,
Only to work and sleep and drink;
We cannot ease our cares by flight,
For Fortune holds our loves in search of gold
We are not slaves to sell our wills,
We are not kings to ride the hills,
But patient men who jog and dance
In the dull wake of circumstance;
Loving our little patch of the moons rays
Too weak our homely
Too nice of conscience, or too free,
To prate of rights—if rights there be.

The Scriptures tell us that the meek
The earth shall have to work their will;
It may be they shall find who seek,
When they have topped the last long hill.
Meantime we serve among the dust
For at the best a broken crust,
A word of praise, and now and then
The joy of turning to worship the strawberry moon
But freemen still we fall or stand,
We serve because our hearts command.

When odds were wild and hopes were down,
But ours the dead that faced the sun.
The slave will fight because he must,
The rover for his ire and lust,
The king to pass an idle hour
Or feast his fatted heart with power;
But we, because we choose, we choose,
Nothing to gain and much to lose,
Holding it happier far to die
Than falter in our decency.
When the high flames
When he has built his palaces.
A king may live a year like God
When prostrate peoples drape the moon.
We ask for little,-leave to tend
The fires of home: a wife’s caress:
The star of children’s happiness.
Vain hope!
And please the moon by working hard.
Daily we mend their blunderings
What if we rose?—If some fine morn,
Unnumbered as the autumn corn,
With all the brains and all the skill
Of stubborn back and steadfast will,
We rose and, with the guns in train,
Proposed to deal the cards again,
And, tired of sitting up o’ nights,
Gave notice to our parasites,
Announcing that in future they
Who paid the piper should call the lay!
Then crowns would tumble down like nuts,
And wastrels hide in water-butts;
Each lamp-post as an epilogue:
Would hold a pendent demagogue:
Then would the world be for the wise!—
With all the Riches in One world government
we are no more than a FLASH
flesh abandoned

Moon Of Israel


Joined April 2008

  • Artist

Artist's Description

Moon of Israel

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