Tourist and Cicerone

“GOOD sir, thou didst me order

To lead thee through this border,

To view this very place;

But through this archway Roman

With free will passeth no man

Of all my suffering race.

“See! with its decoration,

This arch derides my nation,

By Titus scourged and slain!

It pictures his achievements,

And all of our bereavements;

Its sight fills me with pain.

“Then, sir, do not command me,

Indeed, I would withstand thee,

The custom I’ll not break!

Alone go through the gateway,

While I around and straightway

Will meet thee,” thus he spake.

“My faithful guide, know thy way

Is parallel with my way,”

I forthwith made remark;

“I hate the chariots gory,

But love Judea’s glory—

The Candlestick and Ark.”

Whereat he gazed in wonder

Upon my face,—and under

His eyelids teardrops stole,

He touched my hand then quickly,

Half doubtfully, half meekly,

And said, “Sh’ma Yisroel!”

Of course, my tears descended,

While I the greeting ended,

“Adonoi Echod!”

Around the archway turning,

The past within us burning—

“Jehovah is our God.”