Joseph Friedlander, comp. The Standard Book of Jewish Verse. 1917.
By Eugene KohnZion
L
Land of the olive and myrtle,
Breathing of Gilead’s balm
Over fragrant fields and fertile,
From the sunset shore of the sea
Greeting of peace to thee!
In our ears, forget we can never
Those piercing, lingering sounds
Or David’s lyre, that ever
To Zion’s Redeemer upraise
Their pæan of deathless praise.
The abode of our youth, where God’s spirit
First to mortals revealed
Those truths that we still inherit,
Field fertile with fruitage of glory
And haunted by memories hoary.
Thy seed and reap of their sowing!
Happy! they never shall know
The exile’s sorrow, not knowing
The infinite heart-ache and pain
Of the toilers that toil in vain.
Zion, to thee, nor burn
With a fever or fretful yearning
In the patience of hope we toil
Again to possess thy soil.
Land of the olive and myrtle,
Breathing Gilead’s balm
Over fragrant fields and fertile,
From the sunset shore of the sea
In God’s time we shall come to thee.