III Hanukkah In a world where each man must be of use and each thing useful, the rebellious Jews light not one light but eight— not to see by but to look at.
Chanukah I think most dear
Of the feasts of all the year.
I could sit and watch all night
Every twinkling baby light.
Father lights the first one—green;
Hope it always seems to mean;
Hope and Strength to glow anew
In the heart of every Jew.
Jacob lights the blue for Truth.
Pink for Love is lit by Ruth.
Then the white one falls to me,
White that shines for Purity.
How the story of those days
Fills my wondering heart with praise!
And in every flame one sees
The heroic Maccabees.