The Jews of England (1290–1902)

AN Edward’s England spat us out—a band

Foredoomed to redden Vistula or Rhine,

And leaf-like toss with every wind malign,

All mocked the faith they could not understand.

Six centuries have passed. The yellow brand

On shoulder nor on soul has left a sign

And on our brows must Edward’s England twine

Her civic laurels with an equal hand.

Thick-clustered stars of fierce supremacy

Upon the martial breast of England glance!

She seems of War the very Deity.

Could aught remain her glory to enhance?

Yea, for I count her noblest victory

Her triumph o’er her own intolerance.