My Tenant
In my youth hope hired
In my heart a tent;
Promised me a fortune,
Never paid her rent.
Bankrupt is my tenant—
This I know at length—
Why then to expel her
Do I lack the strength?
This poem is in the public domain.
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The Miracle
The Rabbi tells his old, old tale,
The pupils seated round.
“…And thus, my boys, no holy oil
In the Temple could be found.
The heathens left no oil to light
The Lord’s eternal lamp;
At last one jar, one single jar,
Was found with the high priest’s stamp.
Its oil could only last one day—
But God hath wondrous ways;
For lo! a miracle occurred:
It burned for eight whole days.”
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All transforming, all entrancing,
Playing on their way and dancing,
Soil-untarnished yet,
Silver stars from sky are dropping,
Little fairies skipping, hopping,
On the roofs and turrets popping,
Crowns with diamonds set.
Greeting nature’s silver wedding,
Argent splendor they are shedding,
And a bridal veil outspreading,
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Till town-alleys, foul and tainted,
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Hanukkah Lights
I kindled my eight little candles,
My Hanukkah candles, and lo!
Fair visions and dreams half-forgotten
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I musingly gazed at my candles;
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In golden, in fiery letters
I read the old, glorious names;
The names of our heroes immortal,
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A battlefield saw I in vision,
Where many were conquered by few;
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