Joseph Friedlander, comp. The Standard Book of Jewish Verse. 1917.
By Judah Ha-LeviTo the Glory of Jerusalem
B
O great King’s city, mountain blest!
My soul is yearning unto thee—is yearning
From limits of the west.
At memory of thine olden state:
The glory of thee which was born to exile,
Thy dwelling desolate.
Flying on eagle’s pinions fleet,
That I may shed upon thy dust, beloved,
Tears, till thy dust grow sweet?
Though where the balm hath been of old—
Thy Gilead’s balm—be poisonous adders lurking,
Winged scorpions manifold.
Shall I not kiss them verily?
Shall not the earth taste on my lips be sweeter
Than honey—the earth of thee?