Blackwell Family Alice Stone Blackwell Subject File Hebrew Poems: Translations By Alice S. Blackwell8. The flowers of Sharon* for as in days of old, Oh, beloved is home, o Zion, and holy and dear Every little plane of chine; and great is the fire Of Love and longing to every valley of chine.... And happy, exceedingly happy would I be when, When I shall be able to see her, my hold land, And press a kiss upon her ruins... In the meantime I am get far from there and bring thee, o Zion, my song From far, from exile, a gossling..... VI The Lion and the Dogs - a fable - from the Yiddish. Once upon a time the dogs felt sorry, That the lion was so proud and mighty, And courageously they resolved To throw upon him dirt and dust. ""We must all be together, And strongly condemn him, the proud one, Until he are become [p?all].... We have only where one aim - To bark as him with malice *Sharon the name of a mountain in Palestine.[A] Russian poem 7. Our exile is bitter and heavy... We carry long years' chains like slaves, We have with us but useless arms; A lamentation, a prayer, a tear... O, many of us have changed in exile In foreign follies the Jewish customs, In golden [calfs] calves - the Jewish God ... And what has become?.... My miserable nation! Thou canst not rise among the nations, Among them thou art always ridiculed... Oh, when will the tears take an end? Oh, when will rise the Jewish star On our thorny way? Oh, when will take an end the noise Of the rushing waves? Oh, when will come the Jewish little boat to the shore? To the shore of the holy, dear Zion, Where, as we hope, will blossom up again 10. It is not proper for me to make a noise Over dogs, that I can only hate.... They cannot wrap me in dirt And far from me is their dust. They are dogs - they must bark And I[?] - I remain the same liar"...4. And show him often the sharpest teeth.... So called out a dog And instantly made efforts To show what he can do doggishly: He lift up his tail with insolence And began pouring on the line A sea of dirt with ardour .... There came to his aid Still many dogs without number And commence to Bark With impudence all at once. And more than all made noise A black liliputian-dog... We described [painted] the thin black through an through And violently boasted of his courage... Soon came the lion Reports about those dogs... "I am able, oh, believe me, to make silent the whole doggish race" To him answered quietly - "But as I am the lord of the forest 4. 3. Once I clothed the world Bemantled and becoated it,- Now I myself am clothed And leave the people (public) naked (unclothed.) 4. Who can possibly conceive of my great sufferings? I bear my pain (woe) deep in my heart And must (dare) not speak of it. 5. Oh, open the shop again for me! I will bear (stand suffer) much there (now) Oh, sap, (draw) my blood, you "sweat" man, (sweatshop owner) sap! I shall only half (as much) complain (bemoan.) OVER4. 6. I'll work (produce) bitterly, will produce (work) hard,- Yea, work without complaint, Sell,I can only the shears, The pen must remain mine (my own). Maurice Rosenfield 3. Whither with a light mind (meaning: in your folly)? "I go to earn (money - a living") Maurice Rosenfield FINIS Slavery of the Pen (The Pen and the Shears) I thought the shop was bad. That editing (writing, publishing) was better. But now I am a pen-slave (slave of the pen) A terrible reaction (change)! 2. The pen which had served me I myself must serve now- I weep for every drop of ink That there is on it. was very bad I thought the shop a hateful place! And preferred that I should like to write Now to the pen I am a slave Slave to the pen I have become And worse is now my plight The pen that served me formerly I now myself must serve I weep for every drop of ink That fills its metal curve. Once on a time I clothed the world [In] With coats & mantles fair; Now I am clothed myself, alas! [I let the But] And have the people bare. Why care conceive my suffering It passes all belief [?] Deep in my heart my pain I believe I dare not tell my grief, Open the shop to me again! There I will bear much pain Sap, sap my blood, O sweatshop I shall but half complain Hard will I toil & do much work Without complaint or moan For I can only sell my shears My pen must be stay my own Elegy. The night is silent, like a graveyard's [still] [mute] hushed; The night is black & darksome, like a [grave] tomb. Exiled, alas! far distant from my home I sit alone careworn in my room. And thoughts, all dark & mournful like my fate, Cloud over my sick heart, a gloomy train; Endless and infinite my sorrows are, A fathomless abyss is now my pain! I sit alone, I hear no rustle stir; A [stillness] Dead silence reigns, [that] and doth the chamber fill. The sky as if with pity gazes down, The night is hushed & must, the night is still. Not many years ago I still yet was young, I hoped, I thought, with sanguine ardor deep, I surely should be able with my songs' To bring [much] great comfort [unto those] to the hearts [who] that weep. I hope a golden [time will shortly ] age would quickly come, [I hoped] That soon a good and gracious day would rise, And that songs freely chanted, strong & new Would drown the sound of [*sad-complaints] grievances & sighs. I hope that all humanity ere long Would [*wisdom gain] become wise, would might grow and strong And with a voice as of a hundred lions Would roar, "Enough! Enough of suffering wrong! "Enough of being endlessly enslaved, And bearing, like a horse, the yoke from birth! All [*human beings have a right] men now born of women ought to live The world is rich, and [*the earth!] broad and large 'Twas thus I thought; but now I understand That my ideal is distant many years; I hear the sighs and sobbing of the weak, On every side I witness [*floods of] flowing tears. A broad, thick smoke eclipses still the sky Of all humanity, and clouds it o'er; The old chains strongly clank, & every day They still are forging new ones, more & more. The night is silent, like a graveyard hushed I sit alone & careworn, nor can sleep; My heart is crushed & broken by despair, write me mournful song, & weep, & weep. [letterhead of National American Woman Suffrage Association] And Rothschild's wealth than mine was [*slightly] somewhat more, Then thou didst soon recover from thy love And thou didst close against me thy heart's door. I a discarded amulet became Thou charmest now a richer man than I. Gold is more precious to thee than my Muse, And thou hast bidden her thy last goodbye. Romance. "Oh, I shall love thee, dear, with constancy! I swear that I will ever faithful be!" Thus saidst thou; and my heart, that times evil Were breaking, beat again - again breathed free. Thus didst thou promise, darling, & my heart Which time had broken, beat again - breathed free. To me the world became a paradise Where only roses bloom, & all is well. I spent whole hours in rapture & joy & in delight Lost courage came again, my heart to swell. I found again my faith in duty I better knew its beauty & its worth; For men are looking for the Lord on high And had found my deity on earth Thou, darling, my muse, my pride & happiness Thou wast the consolation of my life Thy gentle glance had power my heart to bless. But when thou knew'st I was a poet, dear, A Zionist Marseillaise I o'er our sad lot have already lamented [With my] In blood I have written & not once alone. I cannot rest now, for the eternal question Oh, what avail tears when our courage is flown? Through sighing & crying my poor wretched brethren, No nation can ever its object attain. In love we must [band ourselves] all unite closely together And work with sincerity, -- work might & main. We must not look out for a single man's fortune But for our whole nation instead [try with and compiled?] And we must all seek to refresh & enliven Our nation's [?] soul [?] all [lauding?, ?] whereOur life belongs not to ourselves, but our nation. O brothers, in unison work hard & long, Until [we can liberate ?] to our nation at least we give freedom To sing in our Zion over man a [f?] song!How could you spend your time in dreams - To heal the cruel world's pain, [?] When our nation lives now in terrible fears And the Jewish heart continually tears! Remain, faithful champions, in our lives, Protect the robbed and powerless Jew, - The Jew, who has no longer strength to cry And cannot move a single limb.... Enough for you to fight for people, who think, That prisons -are- righteousness, and judgment - is might... Do you not hear the tired Jews cry? Where are you, oh, champions? Wake up now, wake up!... Wake up and protect your liberty and honor, And make an end to the exile of the Jews. Break to pieces and crumble the heavy chains, That have bound their hands until now. V Lamentations - from the Yiddish.6. Already hundreds of years passed, Since the great misfortune befell us And wraps up our sky with night ... We suffer since then the greatest shame, We are sacrifices for foreign sins, We sigh, we cry... The enemy - he laughs!... They have thrice already bent our pride, They try to stifle the spirit, the free, That gives us strength to suffer the pain... The world became for us a cemetery, We are compelled to beg justice from the world Like a beggar-bread. We have no place, where to sit in security: The cruel enemy advances like a whirlwind And his hand destroys and breaks to piece everything. Neither tears nor prayers do then help. The Jewish houses become soon ruins, The Jewish daughters - dishonored... Oh, great is the misfortune that befell us! We are tired out from waiting and hoping, -3 When [cruelty] [despotism ends] crime & wrong shall cease And [silent] we shall [become] hear no more the cry for help of the oppressed. Then from the heads of monarchs the crown shall be removed And parted justly among those whom fortune had forgot. Twas this I thought - and so [my] my voice in hope I lifted up And sang my songs - the songs of joy increased, and faltered not. [cheered my lot] Now [in] 'mid the ruins of my past I stand and weep my dead - My [ancient] old time hopes [; [Lo, left all and utterly alone] I am alone & perplexed [by] is from my lute [I know now am left!] [The strong voice of my song has an a sudden] [It suddenly has broken of down the sweet voice of my song] [Silent my muse, and of inspiration] [are bereft!] My inspiration all has fled now is [gone] flown, my muse is still and mute! My song's voice on a sudden has failed, and [broken down] ceased to sound. 2 Has taught me only how to weep & openly lament. Within the Ghetto I was born, within a corner dark, Naught but laments & mourning songs I heard in that sad place Since from my mother's womb I came, down to this present day [Life] Lo, life has shown me [only] nothing but a stern & angry face Within the [merry glad gay light] happy [joyful] joyous world I Like a mourner dwell, My heart is young, & yet, alas, my strength has passed away; My friend, from my youth upward I have [striven?] still for light, Have lifted my soul up toward it forever, [day by] night and day. To study I devoted my time of early youth, My spirit and the essence of my soul to this I gave. For brotherhood and friendship I have striven all my days And to embrace the whole broad earth my eager heart did crave. Love - so I thought - will surely root out haughtiness & pride And every downcast spirit then will find its longed-for rest. I thought that blissful time was nearWhat Shall I Sing? What shall I sing, my friend? E'en now, within my Muse's lips, [It lies] There waits, prepared and guarded and hidden, my lament -- An ancient song of mourning, that I sang long years ago. It has not ceased: and ever from the treasury unspent Of my [hot] [salt] own tears, increasing still, I draw it, day by day -- Over the loss of all my hopes, foretelling lofty things, -- Over the loss of all my dreams, that promised announcing balm for [woe] grief, -- The loss of youth, and those [bright] fleet days to which youth's halo clings, I shall not sing, my colleague! I am a mourner [have become] now, And for my youthful hopes I have already dug a tomb My good dreams all have passed away -- alas, they are no more! My heart is emptied out; and naught dwells in [its] that vacant room. New pains lift up their eyes to me, and o'er my woe I weep, And o'er the ruin a dark fate has on my nation sent. What shall I sing, my friend? Alas, my sad & bitter life 2 National American Woman Suffrage Association. MEMBER NATIONAL COUNCIL OF WOMEN. Honorary President, Susan B. Anthony, 17 Madison Street, Rochester, N.Y. President, REV. ANNA HOWARD SHAW 7443 Devon Street, Mt. Airy, Philadelphia, Pa. Vice President at Large, CARRIE CHAPMAN CATT, 205 West 57th Street, New York City. Corresponding Secretary, KATE M. GORDON, 1800 Pyrtania Street, New Orleans, La. Recording Secretary, ALICE STONE BLACKWELL, 3 Park Street, Boston, Mass. Treasurer, HARRIETY TAYLOR UPTON, Warren, Ohio. Auditors } LAURA CLAY, Lexington, Ky. CORA SMITH EATON, M.D., Masonic Temple, Minneapolis, Minn. National Press Committee, ELNORA M. BABCOCK, Dunkirk, N. Y. NATIONAL HEADQUARTERS, WARREN, OHIO. OFFICE OF THE RECORDING SECRETARY, BOSTON, MASS. while walking the street Ye talk with hypoerisys art to all those who approach you, And flattery quits not your lips, which are smiling & cold. You make find it your a shelter, it [clothes] covers you [all] over like armor, You stretch out your hands to all villains to shake & to hold. your brother is fraudulent, cunnint, your friend the god Baal, Your idol is money, your master, the purse full of gold. On your heads rest your sins, & through them ye shall perish & vanish You strike those who see you with blindness, confusing their thought And they do not see rightly; their eyes are closed, holden from seeing, But all your misdeeds, ye base beings, will soon come to naught For lo! the false prophets already are passing, [*departing, Decreasing, diminishing -- this hath the hand of truth wrought!] Ye speak in the name of the Lord, though the Lord hath not sent you Your tongues forge deceit, like your thoughts which hypocrisies blight Words softer than oil do ye give to all those who pass by you; Within your hearts temple, ye base ones, there burns not God's light. Tell Are ye have performed deeds of evil, ye seek not your couches; Ye walk filled with emptiness -- yea, & your fortress is spite. Ye speak peace with your mouths, & war dwells in your hearts while ye speak it. Like the pillar of cloud, on your threshold stands ever the sweet, Pleasant lie, your beloved companion. Ye know that the rabble Inflict on their censurers wounds undeserved & un meet, And they in the eyes of the crowd can find favor no longer, And therefore ye do not rebuke. And IV I sit alone in my room, careworn. Thoughts dark like my fate, Cloud my sick heart; Endless are my sorrows A deep abyss is now my pain!... I sit alone, I hear no rustle A stillness reigns in the room around; The pry looks as if with compassion, The night is still, the night is silent. Not long ago I was still young I hoped, i thought, That I shall be able, with my singing, To bring much consolation to him, who cries; I hoped, that will come A golden time a good day, -- And songs free, strong, new Will deafen sighs, grievances... I hoped: the whole humanity Will become strong will become wise And with a voice of a hundred lions I will already roar: "Oh, enough!Dr. LOUIS A. ALEXANDER, 1393 Fifth Avenue. III New York, 190 To laugh as poetry and say: "we do so want it!" But you will believe me, not terrify the poet, You will not stifle his divine voice... His duty is to sing, to compose (poetics) and wake, And he will do it everytime - all the time.... The true poet does not demand thanks: He has his just reward in his work,- He feels in his rich heart, that he is the real crown to humanity. You must all honor the true poet You ought [must] not to eclipse his artistic glance... He is your father, brother and judge, He is your companion in unfortune and fortune III "Elegy"- from the Yiddish The night is still like a cemetery, The night is dark like a grave.... Oh, far from my home exile Dr. LOUIS A. ALEXANDER, 1393 Fifth Avenue. VII New York, 190 V "What shall I sing?" from the Hebrew. What shall I sing, my friend? - and in the mouth of my muse. Is prepared, and guarded and hidden my lamentation, An old mourning song, that I lamented long ago And it did not stop and constantly I draw it From the treasury of my tears, that are continually increasing On the loss of my hopes that prophesied me exacted things. In the loss of my dreams that announced me ansolation, On the loss of youth and the day of youthful age... I shall not sing, my colleague, - I became a lamenter! For the hopes of my youth I already dug a grave, My good dreams, alas! passed away and they are no more And my heart is emptied out and nothing dwells now therein... New pains lift their eyes to me, And I weep in my affliction and in the ruin of the nation! What shall I sing, my friend? Alas! my bitter life Taught me but to weep and to lament publicly I was born in the Ghetto, in a dark corner, There I continually heard but lamentations and mourning songs... From the day I broke out of my mother's womb up to these days, Life showed me but a [?]....VII In the joyful world I am like a mourner, The heath is still green - and already, alas! my strength passed away! My friend! From my youth I strove for light, Constantly I lifted my soul towards it; The period of my early youth I devoted to study, To it I gave my spirit and the essence of my soul. All my days I strove for brotherhood and friendship And wanted to embrace the whole earth; Love - I thought - will rout out the pride And every castdown spirit will find its rest... I thought that the blessful time was near In it will stop the oppression, will also become silent the cry for help From the Read of the Kings the crown will be lifted And will in justice be divided among those forgotten by fortune... I thought.... In my hope I lifted up the voice of my word. And I sang my songs, the songs of joy increased. Now I am standing in my [?]; ruins And weep over my dead.... my old hopes.... .............. I am left alone - entirely alone! Inspiration left me.... My song's voice suddenly hone down, Silent is my muse!... II Thy gentle glance used to make me happy! But as thou learnedst, that I am a poet And Rothschild is a little richer than I- Thou soon receiverest from thy love And closedst the door of thy heart.... I soon became a discarded amulet, unfit for use, - And thous earnest on anew a romance with a rich maw... Oh money is much more valuable to thee thru my muse, And thou hast already said to her thy last "Good bye!".... II "The Poet to the Public" - from the Yiddish My house - is the heaven and friends- the angels Comrades - the flowers, the birds in the woods - The sounding praises do not glad dew me The critic's "censure" does not vex me at all! I studied you already oh dear "brothers" I know you, pigmies, I know you very well! You cannot comprehend understand my songs That are written with tears, with blood. You cannot comprehend! - the daily prose curdled already every feeling of yours... Only I simply wonder: How could you have the impudenceDr. LOUISE A. ALEXANDER, 1393 Fifth Avenue. I New York, 190 Poems by Ezekiel Leavitt, translated into English prose by Dr. Louis A. Alexander I "Romance" - from the Yiddish. "I shall love thee constantly!" - Thou hast promised me- "Oh, always, I swear to thee, I shall be faithful..." And, darling, my heart, that the time broke Has beaten again and breathed quite freely. The world became a paradise to me, Where roses only blossom and everything is good; I was given to spend whole hours in joys I found the lost courage again; I found my faith in divinity again I now understood better its beauty, its worth: Men are looking for the Lord God on high, And I found my God on earth! Thou, darling, wast my God, my soul, My riches, my muse my pride and my happiness; In thee was my life's consolation, Dr. LOUISE A. ALEXANDER, 1393 Fifth Avenue. V New York, 190 Enough to be enslaved for eternity, Enough to carry the yoke like a horse... All men ought to live, The world is rich and large the earth! I thought...But now I understand, That my ideal is yet far. I hear the sighs of the weak. I see many tears all over... Still a large smoke eclipses The sky of the whole humanity... The old chains strongly knock And they are forging still new ones. The night is still like a cemetery I sit careworn in my room alone. Despair breaks my heart in pieces, I write my song and cry and cry. IV "To the False Prophets"- from the Hebrew. In the Lord's name you prophesy - though he did not send you.VI from tongue forges deception like everything that comes beyond mind, Softer than oil are your words for every passer-by; God's light does not burn in your heart's sanctuary, Before performing bad deeds you do not ascend your couch, You walk with emptiness and your fortress but malice. You talk peace with your mouth and war dwells in your heart Like the pillar of cloud stands constantly on your threshold The sweet lie, your good companion... You know, that to the censurers they inflict wounds, unmerited, And in the rabble's eyes they do not find their fame any more -- Therefore [they] you or not reprieved... And while your walking on the feet You talk with the art of dissimilation to everyone that approaches you, The flattery does not abandon your lips, It is a shelter for you, it covers you like a coat of mail... You lend your hand to all villains, You back the cunning, your friend -- Belus*, Your idol -- the money, your master -- the purse... Your sins rest on you and through them you will pass away And those who see you, you strike with blindness, And they do not see rightly: Their eyes are closed for to see... But your misdeeds will not live long, [your] mean creatures! The false prophets are already passing [going] away, decreasing, diminishing -- The hand of truth did this! *The Babylonian god I hope that thou wilt wake my strength anew And still refresh it, in the days to be - That thou wilt give to me a glorious May. And [I] more songs and new shall sing for them Of love, of hope - and the grief, and the suffering No more shall poison our sweet happiness Dear only give to me thy hand & heart, Together we will fight, strive & forward pressNational American Woman Suffrage Association. MEMBER NATIONAL COUNCIL OF WOMEN. Honorary President, Susan B. Anthony, 17 Madison Street, Rochester N.Y. President, Rev. ANNA HOWARD SHAW, 7443 Devon Street, Mt. Airy, Philadelphia, Pa. Vice President at Large, CARRIE CHAPMAN CATT 205 West 57th Street, New York City. Corresponding Secretary, KATE M. GORDON 1800 Pyrtania Street, New Orleans, La. Recording Secretary, ALICE STONE BLACKWELL, 3 Park Street, Boston, Mass. Treasurer, HARRIET TAYLOR UPTON, Warren, Ohio. Auditors LAURA CLAY, Lexington, Ky. CORA SMITH EATON, M.D., Masonic Temple, Minneapolis, Minn. National Press Committee, ELNORA M. BABCOCK, Dunkirk, N.Y. NATIONAL HEADQUARTERS, WARREN, OHIO. OFFICE OF THE RECORDING SECRETARY, BOSTON, MASS. [page blank after header] [next page] National American Woman Suffrage Association. MEMBER NATIONAL COUNCIL OF WOMEN. Honorary President, Susan B. Anthony, 17 Madison Street, Rochester N.Y. President, Rev. ANNA HOWARD SHAW, 7443 Devon Street, Mt. Airy, Philadelphia, Pa. Vice President at Large, CARRIE CHAPMAN CATT 205 West 57th Street, New York City. Corresponding Secretary, KATE M. GORDON 1800 Pyrtania Street, New Orleans, La. Recording Secretary, ALICE STONE BLACKWELL, 3 Park Street, Boston, Mass. Treasurer, HARRIET TAYLOR UPTON, Warren, Ohio. Auditors LAURA CLAY, Lexington, Ky. CORA SMITH EATON, M.D., Masonic Temple, Minneapolis, Minn. National Press Committee, ELNORA M. BABCOCK, Dunkirk, N.Y. NATIONAL HEADQUARTERS, WARREN, OHIO. OFFICE OF THE RECORDING SECRETARY, BOSTON, MASS. Of friendship, love & peace, To win my Far more than thou already have I striven With what result! An empty dream! Dear friend I am a broken vessel! Comfortless My marrow as today + yesterday My life is worse than death; all my [?] In sighing + complaining pass away No ray of consolation can I see My brightest day, alas, is dark as night And my sad soul is sick + suffering As if it lay beneath a poison blight Give me thy hand, my love my faithful Abandon not the past far away! Perhaps together we may have the [forum?] To cope with courage for a better day.Thou hast already suffered much in life Thou that art yet but young in years [?] [Love] Aye past than [?], [yet] thou dost find Though striving always being Further thy goal more far away. Thou are still young, and yet thy heart is old Already, warm with suffering, pain and care The world like a dead figure seems to thee, That has no future, no tomorrow fair, Thy loving heart has broken been by time As tender blossoms by the rough winds' strife Oh, vast and infinite the grief, the pain Thou hast received, [from] dear, at the [rude] hands of life. My child, my loving, true and suffering child, My life is all made up of sorrowing [?] [My sweet, rich dreams the wind has borne away Like to a drifting smoke wreath that disappears] A drifting smoke the wind has blorne away The sweet, rich dreams of my more youthful years Which the dreamer, Hope, has woven for me The Park Hotel Warren, O The wood[s are] is whispering, the flowers bloom fair, The sky is again beauteous in its love, Man's consolation, May, has come, abut ah! My sisters & my brothers, not to you! You scarcely see the glory of the May The cannot reach you minds, these lovely scenes. Within the shops you sit till late at night Bent double, ever plying the machines. You toil & toil; they take from you your stregnth, Your life blood, your best years, in prison passed; You toil & toil, with no repose, no rest, Till in the coffin you are laid at last. But come it must - so I believe & hope - A fresh, new time, a fresh new kind of May: Men will no more be animals & sleep, And you, too, will rejoice in freedom's day. My sisters & my brothers, lose not heart A time will come that much to you will bring When nothing you will hear but songs of joy Of grass & flowers, [freedom life] liberty & spring.To you, my sisters & my brothers poor, Scattered throughout the world these many years, Who cold & hunger patiently endure, To you I write my songs with blood & tears. I never shall write flatteries to the rich I never with my pen shall business do. With you, ye persecuted, I shall stay, And I shall laugh with you & weep with you. God's little world is glorious & rich The May has come, to fill all hearts with glee The sun smiles lovingly upon the lake That is as clear as tears of children be. The birds are singing sweet a song divine The grapes are sending [forth] out [a] their spicy scent I see the nightingale, my colleague, [seek] A pleasant home within the wood's thick tent 2 עס זיינע שםלייפען דוא, דוא, וואס פירכטען צוליעם טנא שוואזץ עטוואס זאגען; עס זיינען שםלאפען צוא, וואס וונלען םייו שפאט אך האס צו וועהלען, טראגען, פיעל בעסץ וויא צו שווייגען גענצלים שטיל, , צעכשטיםענציג צעם כוכטיגען געפיה. תוט צמא גערעכטע לייט, אבוואהל צוא צאהל איז בליןFor Freedom James Russel Lowell .דיא רוסישע רעװאליוציאן פון .עליס סטאון בלעקװעל פֿריי איבערזעצט פֿון ענגליש .פֿון יחזקאל לעװיט 1. װאס פֿיר אַ פורפור-רויטהקייט ליעגט אויפֿ'ן מזרח האָריזאנט ?און פֿארבט דעם גאנצען ים אין בלוט ?איז עס אַ גרויסער בראנד, װאס װיל אַ פֿאלק פֿערשלינגען גלייך ?אַ שרעקליכער װאולקאן, װאס מאכט דעם פֿלוטה און גלוטה 2. ,ס'איז װייט, ס'איז װייט אויף יענער זייט, מיר װאכען עס מיט װאונדער ?װער װייס צי ס'איז אַ צייכען שוין אוף גוטעס אדער פלאג עס דארפען װיסען עס דיא פֿרייע הערצער װייל דער פֿייער !ער װייזט דיא צייכענס שטארקע פֿון א פֿרייהייט'ס טאג 3. אָ, אונזער קאמפף איז הינטער אונז, מיר זעהען איהם װיא ;דורך א נעבעל ,װיא איין ערשיינונג פֿול מיט צויבער װייזען יעני טעג אונז אויס װען ניי און אונבעקאנט, דורך שרעקליך שטורעמדיקע װאלקען .איז אונזער רעפובליק, גלייך װיא אַ שטערן פֿיעל שיינענדיק הערויס 4. ;און מיר שטאלצירען מיט דיא העלדישקייט, װאס האט דאן אונז בעפֿרייט דזסולאי דעם פֿיערטען מיר דיא הייזער שעהן בעצערען מיט פֿלעגס, און מיר ערקלערען הויך, אז ליבליך איז צו שטארבען אויך .פֿיר פֿרייהייט, און, װיא פרינצען שטאלץ, מארשירען מיר, מארשירען 5. אָ דארטען אבער שטארבען זיי! און טויזענדע, אָ, שמאכטען דארט ,אין קייטען, אין געפֿענגניסע, װיא ס'הערשען אונגליק, װעה 2 אויך מעהר בעשטראפֿט דארט װערען פֿיעלע אפֿט – מען שיקט זיי קיין סיביר .צו ארבייטען אין ד'רערד, אין װיסטעניס, אין שנעע 6. "!עס זיפֿצען שטארק דיא דאָרפֿלייט און פֿערשמאכטע קינדער שרייען "אָי ס'בעדעקט דער רויך פֿון דערפֿער גאנץ פֿערברענט, דעם הימעל'ס-רוים .װיא מיט א טוך אנשטאָט מיט בלומען זיין בעדעקט, איז גאר מיט בלוט דיא ערד ;בעפֿלעקט .מען הערט קיין װערטער ניט, נאר בלויז געװיין און פֿלוך 7. װאס איז דיא אורזאכע, דאס פֿיעלע מאל אין זאָ אַ קורצער צייט ?דער בלייכער הונגער שטאלץ שפאציערט אויף רוסלאנד'ס רייכסטע פלעצער -פֿארװאס דיא נויטה און טיפֿוס דארט דיא מענשענ'ס אדערן בע זאנפֿטען ?און פֿיבער שפרייט גאנץ ברייט דיא שטארקסטע זיינע נעצער 8. ,אויב ס'װאלט דער דאָרפֿמאן קענען עסען פון דיא פֿיה און װייץ ,װאס װערט בעשאפֿען דורך זיין מיה און האנד ;דאס פֿאלק װאלט מעהר ניט זיין פֿערפֿלוכט מיט הונגער עס איז דער גיפֿטפֿול בוים פֿון דעם טיראן, װאס דארט .פֿערשװארצט דיא לאנד 9. ,פֿערדארבען האט זיין שװארצער שאטען, אָ, דיא גאנצע תבואה .דער באדען איז אונפֿראכטבאר יעצט, עס פֿליעסט ניט מעהר קיין קװאל ,קיין קערנדל, װאס זאל ערנעהרען, אונטער איהם קען שוין ניט װערען .און פֿיבער, טוידט, פֿערשפרייטען זיינע בלעטער איבעראל 10. יא אונטער דיעזען טריבען שאטען, איבער בערג און גראזען-פלעצער ;דיא פֿלאנצען שטארבען אויס, דער זונענ-שיין איז קראנק אבער דיא בלום פֿון שטארקען דרייסט – אהן פֿורכט און פֿול מיט -זיכערהייט .װיא אונקרויט װאקסט ביים װעג, װאקסט זיא געדיכט און פֿריי און פֿראנק 3 11. װיא אונקרויט אויך װערט זיא געטראטען אפֿט פֿון גראבע פֿיס פֿון ,שכור'ע דעספאטען .....ביי װעמען האס איז שטארק און װאדקא שפיעלט אַ ראלע בלויז נאר דיעזע בלום װעט ניעמאלס שטארבען, װייל אויב מען זוכט איהר ,צו פערדארבען .איהר בלוט צוזעעט זיך װיא זריעה – און די ערנטע איז גרויס 12. -פֿון ד'רערד'ס פֿערשמאכטען בוזים דיעזע בלוטהע שפרינגט הערויס דיא רויטהע בלום פֿון העלדישקייט אן מוטה, װאס צייגען זיך מיהט נאך שעהנער און העלער און רויטער, װאו ס'פֿאלט שטיל א העלדישער ,טוידטער .דיא בלום בעקראנצט דעם עשאפֿאט און אויף דיא קברים בליהט 13. און ס'װעט אַ צייט געװיס נאך קומען, װען מ'װעט פֿון יענע רויטהע בלומען .מיט פֿיעל טריאומף א קראנץ אויספֿלעכטען פֿיר דער פֿרייהייטס קאָפ װייל אלע מאל אַ זיעגערין געהט זיא הערויס, אבװאהל דיא פֿינסטערקייט בעדעקט איהר יעצט פֿון אויבען ביז אראָפ 14. עס קענען איהר ניט טוידטען קיין טיראנען, און אַ טאג איז נאך פֿאַראנען .װען אין דער גרויסער רוסלאנד װעט קיין שקלאף ניט זיין שוין מעהר איהר בלייכער הונגער און דיא פֿורכטען װעלען קיינעם מעהר ניט ,שרעקען און איבער איהרע פעלדער װעט טבואה זיך בעװעגען, װיא דיא .װעלען פון דעם מעער 15. -אָ, דער געדאנק פֿון פֿרייען מארגען זאל פֿערלייכטען אונז'רע זארגען .אַ מארגען, װען דער האס און הונגער װעלען שוין ניט מאכען מיעד דיא שװאכע װעלען מעהר ניט זיין אונטערדריקט און ליידען פיין פון שטארקע, און צוזאמען װעט דער קריסט שוין װאונען .מיט דעם איד 4 16. ,דיא פֿרייהייט, גרעסער נאך פֿון אונזערע, װעט דארטען בליהען ,און רוּסלאנד, ניי געבארענער! מען װעט פֿערפֿלעכטען אין איהר קראנץ ,אהן שטרייט, אהן צאנק, א שעהנעם בלאט פֿון לארבער-בוים .װאס האלט אין בליהען ערשט ביי אונז, אין לאנד, מיט גלאנץ 17. דיא פֿרויען פֿיהרען דארט א שטרייט אום נייע ליכט העריינצוברענגען ;אין מיטען פֿון געפֿאהר, אין מיטען פֿון דער נויטה עס פֿליעסט דיא בלוט פֿון זייער הערץ, זיי ליידען יעדע װיילע שמערץ, .מען שיקט זיי אלע טאג אין קערקער, אין גיהנם און צום טוידט 18. עס זיינען קיינע קעמפפֿער דרייסטער, און װיא אמת פֿרייע גייסטער זייא ארבייטען צוזאמען מיט דיא מענער; און װען דער קאמפף װעט ,זיין צו לעצט זיי װעלען האבען דאן דיא זעלבע רעכט, װאס האט דיא מענליכע ,געשלעכט .אזוי װיא ס'איז אין פֿינלאנד איינגעפֿיהרט אין יעצט 19. ;אונװיסענד, זאגען זיי, איז ער, דער רוס, װאס איז געשמיד אין קייטען ער פאסט זיך נאך פיר פֿרייהייט ניט" – זיי שרייען אויפֿ'ין קול" עררייכט האט ער שוין קענטניסע אַ פֿולע, מעהר װיא יעניגע װאס לערנען -,אין א שולע .ער װייסט דאך װיא צו ליידען און צו שטארבען מיט אַמאל 20. ,װען מיט דיא פֿינסטערניס און שרעק װעט פֿרייהייט'ס ליכט מאכען איין עק ,מיר אלע װעלען זעהן דאן װיעדער אויף דאס ניי ,אז, טראץ פֿערפֿאלגונגען און ביטערען נסיון .ער װייס, דער רוס, נאך װיא צו לעבען גליקליך און גאר פֿריי The Russian Revolution [Miss?] Alice Stone Blackwell; ,דיא זעעלע מעג פֿער'חלש'ט װערען שװער עס מעג פֿון קערפיר גאר נישט װערען – ס'זאגט דער קול "!דאך רוף" !און ער פֿון אלץ איז מעהר .The call to the Prophet SpencerIV Persons I pray thee, Almighty! Thy [?] nor cursed Russia, Because she does not know mercy and the fist is her law... Make known among the nations the vengeance for the blood of thy servants And wipe Russia out from the book of life! measures only, upon which the men engaged in this business need to fix their attention. And these two publications were first woman suffrage, which must be defeated; and the amendment of & to local prohibition law of the states. Which must be carried. And so they concentrated on the defeat of woman suffrage. Later on they were so fearful of the result, where [?] as the oratory hung in the air, they sent out a second appeal declaring that they must have those $50,000 to defeat the women.In all the houses of prayer in which Ilary's son's worshipers meet The multitude greater had grown, the voice of loud chanting was heard The priests of the house told of falsehood their own [disolve] deceive hid And to all of the folk of the city they preached pure morality's word To the houses of prayer all the christian's were streaming, because on that day For them all it was holiday time; today is their great Easter feast Their faces are beaming with joy in the soft gentle rays of the sun The scene from the clouds has come for the & the warmth of the air is increased O, [2f!] Literal trans. from the Russian Ay David A. Modell Once I've read a legend - A tradition of hoary time: Under the sky of fare Threacia, Where are many heralds of spring: Plenty of fragrant violets And many purple flowers: Abundance of golden fields, The coolness of shady gardens; Where sky is blue and transparent, As particles of an innocent tear; Where illuminated by the crimson sun Are meadows trimmed with green; Where in a wide ribbon passes A whole [corb] of desert-steppers,- In a tent, woven in garlands, Drbelt the muses' favorite - Orpheus. (over) This singer was inspired: Wonderful songs he would sing And by his marvellous song-singing Many to himself would he attract. Once he sings, all things else are silent, As if all the world were dead, As though all birds have vanished And singing-birds were all gone: Birds and rocks and [?] lent ear in dumb delight To the outpowerings of his soul And the lyre of holy times. Ferocious beasts came, too, Having tamely shoved through their heads; His footsteps they are licking, In their eyes is a fire unearthly... O, IF-! (conluded) O, if that wonderful lyre Of singer Orpheus I possessed - I would wander the world o'ver And loudly songs would I sing... And with the sweet sounds of the lyre I would begin subduing the beasts... And by flaming, powerful words, The hearts of all men would I [?]...And will sing [a] our songs of labor. Thither let us Go where, guarded by the long adventure Let us go, where guarded Stately palm trees grow, [where] and where the daughters Of Jerusalem once sang their song Telephone 1791 Hawmarket Office of the Woman's Journal No. 3 Park Street, Room 16 Boston, Mass., .........................190 heavily against suffrage! Yours truly, Alice Stone BlackwellYea, a life in our own native country Can all this but an illusion be? Or perhaps, my dear one, I am dreaming? Mother, what my brothers read, I heard I remember all of their discussions: "It is time to waken!" was their word "Day is [da] dawning, & the hour approaches When the dawn our souls from sleep shall rouse thoroughly We will go forth fearlessly To our meadows, following the ploughs Why Rejoicing? My is their rejoicing [sort] mixed with tears? Poor our brethren are, I know, my dear one And They are not suffered to complain And they cannot laugh with freedom - strangers aliens [With oppress] Follow oppress them, work their pain. But my dear, what is this agitator Young are among them eagerly? What these numbers [that] [are] should about among us? Lively movement everywhere I see, Songs of a new life of life, I hear them scurrying Life of words & longest for libertyWhat is all this tumult in our nation? Tell me, dear one. For I fain would know. "For the sake of a great cause & holy Forward, brethren, forward let us go!" Say of what they now their songs are singing All the brethren of our ancient race? All around a holy "Rise!" re echoes, Expectation is on every face. All await - what comfort? Who will bury it? The Messiah taught there many years? Wherefore are they working?After the Basle Congress From the Russian of Ezekiel Leavitt. --O tell me, my dear, I want to know. What is this uproar our nation is making: "For the sake of a great and holy cause Let us go forward, brethren!" O tell me, my dear about what now Our brethren are singing their songs? All around resounds a holy "Arise!" And everyone looks as though expecting something. All are waiting...For what? For what consolation? And who will bring it to them? The holy Messiah? What are they weeping about? Why do they rejoice? Why is their joy mixed with tears? Our brethren are poor...I know, my dear, I know, and to complain they are not permitted; They cannot laugh freely...Strangers Are oppressing and pursuing them... But, my dear, what is the agitation That is going on within our nation? What kind of rumors is spreading among us? Everywhere I see a lively movement, And hear songs of a new life--- overA life of work and desired liberty, A life in our native land. Can all this be only an illusion? Or perhaps I am dreaming, dear? I heard, mother, what my brethren have read, And I remember all their discussions. "It is time to awake!"--they exclaimed-- "It dawns! and the hour is approaching When, awakened by the day-break, We will go proudly and fearlessly Into our fields after the ploughs, And songs of labor we will sing. Let us go there, where guarded by centuries, Tall palms grow, There, where sang the daughters of Jerusalem, Where myrtles and roses bloom. Let us go over high mountains, and through woods In merry and friendly company. Fearless, brethren, pass over the wide sea, And go forward, helmsman, go ahead! We should not fear! The whole sea of suffering We will empty drop by drop, we will drain it to the bottom, For the sake of holy traditions... With a quiet prayer we will mention The name of our martyrs...The storms will abate, When we reach our natives shores, And Messiah, in full splendor and glory, Will then appear in our fatherland." --Where is our fatherland? O tell me, dear, Tell me, dearest, do you not know? Do the angels of Paradise dwell there? Do little birds sing there? Do roses and lilies bloom there? I have heard marvellous stories of this fatherland From my grandpa, at even-tide, When, opening my drowsy eyes, He, with deep grief, whispered over me: "My heart aches, my hands shiver, It is time for me to rest in eternal peace... I pray, God, that my grandchildren should see Our native land, our holy Zion... I believe, that better times are coming, And our poor nation will awake, And proudly raise the banner of freedom, And will exclaim: "Fearlessly forward!" over 4/ Why do they sing of Zion so oft? Why do thoughts of Zion disturb your sleep Why now, mother, everywhere sounds: "Our Zion, our native land!" --"Zion," whispered the sorrowful mother, Fondling her darling with love, "O child! O dearest child! In Zion We will again have our own home! Zion, child, is our faith, our belief..." --O mother dear, now I understand everything. And for the native country of our forefathers, Longing and weeping, I will pray now...Poem by A. Raisin Meter: l - l - l - l l - l - l - l l - l - l - l l - l - l - l To Life 1. Life, tell me what you have, And I don't ask what it costs Put up the highest price But show something beautiful/or great) 2. I had an ideal As a clean(spring in the forest I just touched him lit) And it disappeared 3. I had a wife - now look Had pronounced me joy and buck I watched and studied her - She was a serpent with a black heart. 4. I fought for humanity To make it free from their chains I hoped and trusted like a child But the blind remain blind Over5. I have left at once that field And went up to a lonesome hill I looked for the highest spot and cursed lonesomeness. then 6. What have you life ? Except seven days in a week Except our heavy yoke And the death, the death after? Poem by J. Kranoff Meter: l - l - l - l - l - l l - l - l - l - l - l The New City 1. The time has passed away The power vanished The (wetche - Public reason of judgement) has become dumb The power is taken away The city of wild force The city of great will The New city - the great one Has become dead. ----2.---- They settled the affair Everything around is quiet Only Wolchour(the lover) daringly Talks about the olden times H cries with white tears About the great old battles And it sings with prayer About the great old days The traveller listens quitely To the song of the stormy waves And again he is dreaming (daring) Full of old thoughts. The end.Now the time is over Vanished the renown Dumb the place of judgment And the power brought down She, the wild strong city With her mighty will She the great new city Now is dead & still The affair is settled Hushed the streets, the walks Only Wolchow boldly Of the old time talks With white tears 'tis weeping Great old battles o'er Prayerfully tis chanting Of great days of yore. [?] Hushed, the traveller listens To its stormy song And old thoughts & visions Through his dreaming strong.I am sitting Tell in silence in the [corner?] I shall vanish quickly flitting And the clock, what is its meaning telling To my soul what is it With its yellow face of figures And its striking, many [?] my whole Life's meaning What then does it teach me surely First to not and to wax thinning And grow aged for maturity Days to eat & tears to swallow Snatching sleep in restless sorrow And to kill the living present Wanting paradise tomorrow Drops the tallow downward sinking candle, thou will vanish quickly like a candle [?] & fable It is a machine & lifeless No emotion o'er skating it When the hour comes, Comes the hour, I [too] must strike it Without no wish & without no feelingIn the streets [?] mud will greet it Soon the winter will become I have no warm coat to meet it What's the meaning of the candle Oh, what says it burning sickly What's the meaning of the rainstorm In my ear what is it telling In the [?] the drops are falling Rolling down like full tears welling And the shoe is torn & ragged Poem by Abr. Raisin [*the meter: 1-1-1-1 1-1-1- 1-1-1-1 1-1-1-*] The Man A beggar comes in Tired and bent Stops witchy at the treshold And looks around Honor, human feeling Are: [Is] extingushed in his eyes, And he streches forth his hand Begging for a penny 'Tis the man, the crown of the world The highest of creatures Look how low he is How small, how ugly! small worms there in the earth soil Honor, turn an feeling She extinguished in his eyes, And he streches forth his hand Begging for a penny 'Tis the man, the crown of the world The highest of creatures Look how low he is, How small, how ugly! Small worms there in the earth soil Are self feeding And the man, the crown, the crown Beggs in the Loures and streets. The end. Isn't that great?!To the door a beggar comes He is bent and weary On the threshold he now he stands looks round Silent gazing, sad and dreary In his eyes are quenched & dead Honor, human feeling And he stretches forth his hand For a cent appealing This is man, the whole world's crown Highest of all creatures See how low and mean he is Small with ugly features Earthworms small can feed themselves And they ask no pity; Man, the crown, the crown, he goes Begging through the city! I chanced to read [an] ancient legend Once upon a time I read a legend, gray [old] and heavy, [Which to us the old] Such as [tongues of] old traditions to us bring: Underneath the sky of far-off Thracia, Where are many harbingers of spring; Violets in plenty, full of breathing fragrance And a multitude of purple flowers Golden fields & [plains] pastures in Shady gardens abundance with their cooling bowers, And the cool of shady garden Where the sky is azure & transparent As the tears of innocence maybe illumined by the crimson sunlight Where, by the red sun illumined [illuminated] beneath the sun's red rays illumined brightly [Meadows] Meadow are decked with verdure [you may set] men fair to see Where, in a wide ribbon passing onward[s] Ranks of desert steppes the traveller views- In a tend with garlands wreathed & woven Orpheus dwelt, the favorite of the muse. Full of inspiration was this singer Marvellous [the] his songs, [be] that floated wide [used to sing] By the magic of his wondrous musicbe attracted to his side Marry to himself he used to being. When he sings, all [other] things (beside) are silent As if all the world were dumb and dead; As though all the birds from heaven had vanished All the songsters of the wood were fled. Birds and rock and billows of the ocean All gave Lent an ear in silent, mute & [?] delight To the sweet out pouring of his spirit, And his lyre's [with] char times of sacred might To his tent the ferocious savage beasts came in [softly] [also] Pushing through their heads in tamest guise they would [let] lick his foot steps [?] [?], gently With a a fire unearthly in their eyes. Oh, if but that lyre of wondrous sweetness Of the pact Orpheus I possessed I would wander then the wide world over And would sing my songs aloud from east to west With the lyre's [rich] [sweet] rich notes of magic sweetness I would then begin the beasts to tame And by burning words of power and passion All men's hearts I then would set a flame!Poem by Abr. Raisin The Meter /-/-/-/- /-/-/-/- /-/-/-/- /-/-/-/- The Old Question 1 What does mean the rain? What does he let me know His drops fall on the window glass They roll down like full tears. ---- And the shoe is torn And in the street is mud and slush Pretty soon will come the winter And I have no warm coat ---- 2 Now what does mean the candle What does it let me know? The tallow drops and goes down And pretty soon the candle will disappear. Like this I sit in the hebrew school room Like a candle dark and weak Until I will disappear soon In quite, in the corner (over3. What does mean the clock? What does it let me know? With its yellow face of (figures cypher) With its ringing, with its heavy zinging It is a made up machine It has no life, no emotions The hour comes and it must ring Without desire, without feeling. 4. What does mean my life then? What does it teach me? To rot and to be [?] And to get old before the time To eat "days" and drink (swallow) tears To sleep on the fist, the hard one To kill him "the here being" time And to wait for the "after Death" paradise? Poem by Ezekiel Leavitt translated into English prose by Dolores A. [?] To the poor Workmen - from the Yiddish To you, my miserable sisters and brothers, To you, who are scattered in the world And suffer with patience hunger and cold - I write my songs with blood and tears. I shall never write flatteries to rich, I shall never make business with my pen... I shall remain only with you, oh persecuted ones, With you I shall cry, with you I shall laugh! God's little world is magnificent, God's little world is rich May has already arrived - everything will become more joyful! The sun is already smiling lovely at the lake, That resembles the clearness of children's tears; The birds sing a divine song And the grass is emitting ambrosial spicy odors; I see, how is seeking a comfortable dwelling My nightingale, [?] in the woods' thicket. The forest is whispering, the flowers are blooming. The sky is again charming in colors; Men's consolation - May has arrived, But alas! not [?], my sisters and brothers. You scarcely see the May it its magnificence, It cannot even enter your mind: You are sitting in the shops till late at night, [?] threefold - and moving the machine... You are working and working...They are taking from you The strength the blood and the best years, You are working and working and have no rest Til they put you into the coffin... But come it must - I believe and hope A time, a new one, a new kind of May. There will be no more animals and sheep, And you also will enjoy [?] life: Do not lose courage, my sisters and brothers, There will still come a time that will give you much... And then you will hear but joyous songs Of flowers, of [?], of freedom and liberty. Alexander -- poem Massachusetts Woman Suffrage Association. MARY A. LIVERMORE, President. HENRY B. BLACKWELL, Secretary. JULIA WARD HOWE, Vice-President. FRANCIS GARRISON, Treasurer. ANNIE T. AUERBACH, 974 Mass. Ave., Cambridge, Mass. SUPERINTENDENT OF PRESS WORK [Cambridge,] Dorchester, Mass. April 13 [189] 1904. Again your lime will be fragrant & your orange will gleam, again God will awaken & bring you thither! " You will sing shepherd songs as you lead your sheep: you will live again live eternally without end." After your terrible wanderings you will go breathe freely; there will again beat a hero's heart under the silent mountain Moriah." Dear Aunt Emily: No one will drive you more with oppressions untold, you will stay at home quietly & peacefully as of yore. Walk along the by paths of your old fatherland -- there is still a spark of life left in the brand near the ruined wall! [*The Jewish May*] Once again your lime shall freshly shed its fragrance on the air And again your orange glisten; God shall wake & bring you there! You shall sing the songs of shepherds As you woolly flock you tend You shall live, [and live for] again, & alive Live forever, without end! After all your awful wanderings You shall breathe in freedom sweet Under silent Mt. [Mar] Moriah Hill a hero's heart shall beat! No one more shall drive you onward With oppressive vast, untold - You shall dwell at home in quiet Peaceful, tranquil as of old Walk, then Jew, along the bypaths of your ancient fatherland Still a sphere of life is gleaming Near the ruins in the brand Near the ruined wall remains Still a sparkle glows ever in the brand [*Spring again begins her painting And beneath her paint brush fair hills and vales & all earths surface clothe themselves in verdure rare. Now again the sun smiles blithely On the world from heaven's height With its smile, its [caresses] kisses tender It prepares it for delight*]In his holy land of old time, Airs of Eden breathed and blew And his temple the revealing Of the Godhead always knew In his holy Tabernacle Angles played, a countless throng, Myriad angles played in bliss the myriad joys that thrilled And he [knew] felt a myriad pleasures [that] to better world belong Of another world than this From a harp of wondrous richness Once the sweetest songs he draw Songs that with the same sweet witchery Sound no longer for the Jew. pure & chaste, Oh, pure & holy were the notes that forth it flung Over a million, hushed & silent Now my nations dream is hung. yes that dream is passed & over But again you dream anew Do you hear a new May calling the distance "Peace Oh Jew?" From afar, "Peace be to you?" Weep not! Although faint with sufferings Not yet wholly lost are you and already new years, good years, Beckon unto you, my Jew! As you hear rich heavenly music passing through the clouds along, Cherubing melodious accents? Hear you, hear you the new song? May again has come to greet us with its charm, its glory deep; all the grasses, all the blossoms have awakened from this sleep. Once again the fields are blooming And the woods are growing green And the nightingale is singing Splendor [Glory] all around is seen. Straightway every human feeling seems [to be] in leaf of flowers to start Melodies of wondrous sweetness Pass in silence through the heart Golden dreams that flit & hover Weave new dreams, & on the earth Make new life; a thousand pleasures now in every heart have berth but behold, you see one yonder Who with downcast looks doth tread On May's tapestry of verdure Lo, he sobs and shakes his head lonely with the heavy sorrow worn & weary doth he go Ah, his pleasant May, his summer, Faded long & long ago! Do you recognize that sick man Who, where all things are abloom Wanders with a stormy spirit And with awful thoughts of gloom? Yes, it is our old acquaintance, Tis our Jew! No fancies sweet Again spring begins to pass with its brush; as it paints, mountains & valleys & the whole earth clothes itself in green. Again the sun smiles down (upon the world & makes it merry; with its smith, with its kiss; it prepares it for pleasures, And no hope of coming summer In his downcast looks we meet. Massachusetts Woman Suffrage Association. MARY A. LIVERMORE, President. HENRY B. BLACKWELL, Secretary. JULIA WARD HOWE, Vice-President. FRANCIS J. GARRISON, Treasurer. ANNIE T. AUERBACH, 974 Mass. Ave., Cambridge, Mass. SUPERINTENDENT OF PRESS WORK. Cambridge, _________________________ 189 Through his old heart old sorrows passing Bring back memories untold Carfies corpses, cold dead bodies Old time youth, and joy of old. All things apart with him & mold him Every flower & every thorn, And the oman stalk looks gloomy And the black crow shrieks in scorn Strange to him the flowers, the foliage Strange the May, with joy a-brim. Foreign Strange the birds, [strting] the gods, the strange people- All these things are not for him! Laugh not, flowers & be not scornful! Doubtless, doubtless, you are fair! But the Israelite has trodden Flowers more beauteous & more rare. In his country, readily glowing, Fields of pomegranates show, And his beauteous plants were planted By the hand of God alone. Ask of Lebanon’s proud cedars Ask of Sharon’s myrtle green- They will know him yet though weary He as old their quest has been. Ask the lovely mount of olives Carmel, all the trees that hem- Ask them all, those perished beauties, For that old, that beauteous dream 14. There many a time i saw her tears Oh her dry cheeks that became wrinkled before time, In the nights stillness i heard her sighs. The sighs of the poor woman, that she scarcely could bare What shall upon her, her fate, The hard, the bites that scoffs at the needy, That crushes and demolish the miserable sore Until it destroys as frie consumes the chaf... And the sights of my matches with are her tears The hot boiling and seething like fire, Poisoned my song in its tender youth, And my song is poisoned! IX On Russia’s Frontier - from the Hebrew. For the last time I lifted my eye, To see the land, where my hope is buried. Where suffered much pain and wrong... I wanted to cry, but my tears became stagnant, In vain i made efforts to sigh- My broken heart alas! Became stone... For the last time the sky of my nature laws Expanded over my head. Stummer I stood, Strong curses were heaving on my lips: 13 In the land of Russia, where they dig graves For lofty ideals and where law is [oppression] the fist... In the land of deceipt, where govern, Whose kindness an early dew, whose righteousness -- cobweb... In the land of Russia, governed by dark fanaticism, And full of oppression and blood-stained; In the land of Russia, whose soul is the penny And whose Emperor grinds the bones of the people... In the land of Russia, whose iron-clad Heaven And brass-plated earth are fortified against every ray of Right... In the cruel land, whose [?] Are chained in fetters and cast into prison.... In this land of Russia, alas! Dear friend, I was born lived, saddened much... There did I spend my youth, there vanished my life's Spring, There did I grow gray - without ever seeing any good! There my grand-mother rocked my cradle, And cried over me and sang a song Sad and sorrowful, wherein she experienced her pain, - [?] the stones of the wall also shook and trembled... 12 And what has become? - A dream!.... A dream, on [?] me .... my dear friend, I am a broken vessel!.. My "to-morrow" is as comfortless as 'yesterday' and 'to-day', My living is worse than dying.... My life I spend in sighing and complaining, I do nor see me say of consolation; Oh, dark as night is my bright day, Prisoned my sick soul. My beloved, my faithful oh, give me thy hand, Do not abandon the poet - 'far away! Perhaps we shall together be in position To hope for better times. I hope: thou will awake the strength of anew. Then will still repeat [them] is again, I hope: there will give me a magnificent May.- And soon I will for thee more songs Of love of hope ... the grief, the pain will no more poison our happiness... Oh, give me, only, dearth hand and thy heart - And we shall [battle] struggle together. VIII My Poisoned Long - from the Hebrew 11. VII Together - from the Yiddish. Thou hast already suffered much in thy life, Though thou art yet young in years; Hast continually striven and get further from the aciss Thou hast become always and always.... Thou art still quite young - and thy heart is already old From pains, from sufferings, from cries; The world appears to thee like a dead figure, That has no future, no to-morrow... Time has broken thy loving heart, As winds - the tender flowers. Endless and great is thy grief, thy pain, That thou hast gotten from life... My loving, my true, my suffering child Thy life consists only of fears... Like a smoke the wind has carried away The sweet, the rich dreams, What the hope, the false, has woven for me With friendship, with love, with peace. Oh, much more than thou I share already, 3. Shall I see you, by brothers - I have lived and striven, but far from my aim Have I always, oh, always been! I have lived and loved with my whole feeling The persecuted, who carry the yoke; And very often in the night, when silent was the world already My bitter: "Woe!" was to be heard. I am weak. I am sick! ... And I hear, how is creeping Already Death, oh, not far from my door... He will quickly extiguish the light of my life, Where it still burns in agony within me. I want now to ask of you something, my friends: Dig a grave for me in the wood, - In a spot, where flows a beautiful clear lake And where is heard a divine song. Put upon my grave a very simple stone And write on it: "Here lies a poet.....He fought vehemently, and have alone Has spoken in his posey. He honestly love, he honestly hated, He often gave a heat with truth . . . . But now he is free from his life's heavy burden, And Death broke his pen. IV The the Champions - from the Yiddish Protect your liberty, be heroes, not cowards! Go into the just fight always with courage! Despise the coward, who bows himself to kiss With mean loyalties the enemy's rod. Do not allow yourselves to be hidden by the enemy like a worm, Guard strongly your honor - the dearest treasure; It is better to lie like heroes in the graves, Than to live as slaves in the richest palaces. The Jewish nation is rich in persecution And poor in helpers... Oh, great is its punishment!... Enough already lohe only cares for foreigners At a time, when they slaughter the Jews like sheep... With my pen I made many enemies, Through my writing I became a sacrifice on Russia's altar . . . . . And yet I shall always write but the truth, I shall not remain in the camp of falsehood: I love but - what is true. I do not ask of life richess and honor, I have but one aim and to it I shall strive: To bring more light . . . I shall never flatter the rich, I shall constantly laugh at the sold souls, Direct in their faces. Like the prophet the poet must be: He must be a strict and honest judge And make ridiculous Those men, whose conscience is dead And do not want to know of liberty and equality. - He must be like God! . . . III My tombstone. - from the Yiddish. I am weal, I am sick! . . . And I know, not long The Jewish nation is rich in persecution And poor in helpers . . . Oh, great is its punishment!I Poems by Ezekiel Leavitt, translated by Dr. Louis A. Alexander. I My Miserable Brother-from the Yiddish. My miserable brother, my poor Jew, How continually sad is, alas, thy song! To thy fate thou art no more than a slave, And wherever thou directest thyself-thou findest not thy right... Thou art a martyr, thou sufferest already so long From men, from beasts, from every snake... For what, my brother, for what crime? Because thou art weak and hast much patience!... Because thou permittest to break thy neck And carriest silently the chains, that heavily oppress thee. Because thou bowest thyself and kissest the rod, That tears from thee thy skin and dips itself in thy blood... It is already time, thou shalt wake up, my poor nation, And lead a life with account, with sense... It is already time, thou shalt conceive, comprehend thy position Do not hope for wonders and work thyself!... II The Poet-from the Yiddish 18. If the place of truth will be inherited by the pleasant lie, That strews to its creatures flowers and roses On every [?]...Awake, poet, And bring down they tongue's rod on the despised lie!... If thou seest: A weak nation, that goes bent-down Under the burden of a hard yoke and powerful oppression That cries for help and nobody is there to aid it, Who shall take up its cause and speak out its desire, Let play, Poet, the cords of the harp, And from one cut of the earth to the world's limits Let there be heard a voice of complaint, a strong and mighty voice, That goes in storming like a thunder before lightening That rushes with force, that breaks and in flames, Perhaps then will he softener the stone-heads... And to the oppressed nation [drap] pour out consolation, Pour also with drops of dew of light, That strengthen the body and enliven the soul... Do not fear men! Prophesy loudly! Before thou wentest from the womb I consecrated thee [?] nation Be to it a faithful son, and I shall be paid they [?]! 17 And a strong voice rolled down from Heaven with force, A strong voice like the noise of mighty waters: If the Lord caused his countenance to shine upon [you] thee And caused the holy spirit to rest in thee And thou played the harp and [?] songs-- Do not be soft like a rush, or not bow thy head Before the word's [f???], beloved by fate Who brush in their riches, lo whom a sigh is strange Who harden their heart and do not know compassion... Do not be soft like a rush! Pour thy anger in hear Announce loudly the wickedness of their deeds Perhaps they may read thy words - heed thee heart And will no longer bow down to their silver, their gold But he came a support to the poor and the needy Who spend their days in want and poverty If though seeest poet, that wickedness reigns supreme, and fells victims right and left. Lift up a voice shrieking fear and fell it to ruins ; Save the robbed ones, poet, from the hand of their robber, Not by force, but by soft and mild words... If the low and young will he mislead. To the [ms. ??] 15 Cursed be Russia, blood-stained land, That loves fools and hates wise men, Who aspire to liberty, justice, truth... There I left my brothers in exile To whom my love is warm and great, I left them - and my soul is sighing .... I know, that their spirit is broken, I was also with them in suffering, Alas! together we suffered in the valley of tears.... Russia's frontier is before me for the last time.... Cursed be the laws! Cursed her populace! The populace, that kisses the rod of him who strikes it... Had the poor people not slept and said; "Remove the rod; it struck me!" This sceptre-- its King were removed long ago. My brothers in exile, given over to suffering, To whom the sun does not bring light, Who perish in their slavery and live like dogs. Oh, could I heal their wounds Oh, could I make cheerful their faces,16 Who became wrinkled before time and covered with clouds . . . Oh, could I let them hear a song, [Green] Fresh like spring, new, strong, That should be able to console the mourners, the unfortunates; Oh, could I make them forget their pain, To wipe away their sufferings and sweeten their fate To remove the slavery and to break the chains! 10 The Voice of God - from the Hebrew The day declined and the night came, A wonderful charming night, a night of song, a Spring night. In the sky on high the moon was already shrinking - And the earth around was wrapt in splendor. In the wood's thickness, between the hidden branches, The nightingale was already singing melancholily. Its sweet song was sheaning; And I was sitting and listening - and my soul dreaming . . . Around were whispering the trees and flowers, And awakened in my head forgotten memories, That in the course of the days I forgot them, - And I sit and dream before the moon's light. And all of a sudden - the sky's darkness opened. The flowers of youth within the heart Are withered now & dead, And as they withered they were want A poisoned scent to spread Yet flower seeds within it lurk still are [resting there] in its depths [Seeds] Deep buried from of [year] yore And from them now view little stocks Begin to sprout once more These tardy growths from winter seeds What name will suit them best? The fascinate the eye, wake yet No longing in the breast How shall I call these [autumn] late blowing flowers In which no scent is found Yet something wondrous mild & soft [Their petals] They seem to spread aroundRosenfeld The Jewish Soldier, On Ocean's Bosom Despair, Whither, The Nightingale to the Toiler, What is the World? In the Garden of the Dead, Sephirah, The Moon Prayer, The Jewish May, The Graveyard Nightingale The Canary, Liberty, To a Factory Girl My Place of Rest, Shoot the Brute, Woman's Love, The Last Wish; The Old Tailor's Pen & Shears Edelstadt, At Strife; My Will, The People's Ball, My dream Ezekeil Leavitt, "Songs of Grief & Gladness" Morris [Wc] Winchefsky, The Music of Children, To the Wise, My Telephone, A Confused Account Chayam Nachman Byalik - On the Massacre Isaac Reingold, The Poet's Will Zimser, The Moon's View of the Earth Frug, The Talmud, The Song of [?] Sand & Stars, The Jewish Child Yehoash, The Poetry of Despair, Jep[h]ttrad Daughter, For [?] Me be the Night, A Legend of the 'Ghetto, My Unpaid Debt, The Limits; Word Vapor, Twilight, Sleigh-riding, A Spring Dream, Of the Catskill Mountains, Starlight, Late Flowers, A Dream, The Brook, My Secret, The Poetry of Despair, From Early to Late At Least a Year, Memories, A Stormy Night, Two Prayers, A Little World Abraham Raisin - When I See, Mean & Hearts, Do You Know? The Stars, Mother to ChildAbraham Raisin - When I see When I see the trees in blossom And the birds all flying near And when like a bride the bright sun Smiles upon us mild & clear, Then I [ask, all] question[, in mournful accent] full of sorrow "What means this? Is summer here?" When the trees are dry, & only [Within] In the cages birds I see, When the sun has wholly vanished And fierce winds are blowing free Then I do not ask "What means it!" Well [these] such times are known to me! Stars - Raisin All the stars are gleaming in the heaven brightly; They are worlds far distant, One would tell us lightly. How shall I believe it? Earth life is too bitter. Can it ever be, then, Worlds [shine] should shine & glitter! No! they would look gloomy, Black, sad, not delightful, And the fair blue heaven [(fields of azure?)] Would [be] look dark & frightful. And by sounds of tumult Would its depths be riven And instead of raindrops Blood would pour from heavenRaisin Oh, revel, revel, [fierce &] angry winds! Conquer the world! [Despite] & rage your fill Now shatter break the branches, [& blow down] fell the trees Do what you will! Out of the forests [cometh all] drive the birds [Pursuing forcing, drive them] [Chase & pursue] And chase them fiercely far away And those that cannot to a distance fly [flutter dist or far] [These] Them Such straight way slay! The shutters from the [cabins] hovels [dig] tear And break the windows in your path If some small candle faintly burns, Drench it, in wrath! Oh, revel, revel, angry winds! Now is your time, this is your day; The winter still has long to last, Summer is far away! Frug - Sand and Stars. u - uu - uu - uu - u u - uu - uu - u - uu - uu - uu - u u - uu - uu - uu - The first & last stanzas are exactly alike; the three in between shorten the last line as indicated aboveFrug's - "The Jewish Child" metre: [??} The third like the first, the fourth like the second, etc alternately (so far as the second line in each stanza is concerned). Stars By Abraham Raisin Brightly in the sky Glitter all the stars Oh, they are worlds, One wants to declare to us. 2. Oh, how shall I believe that the stars are Worlds? Is it then possible Worlds should shine? 3. Not they would look (appear) Gloomy (dark) black and sod, And the blue sky Would look horrible. 4. And from there [the sky] there wouldBe heard a [?]; hot rain--[there would] [?] Blood from the heavens, All the same. When I See. By Abraham Raisin When I see the trees blossoming, And the birds hovering, flying; When from the sky, like a bridge The [?] [?] mildly [?] to (for, whom) all, [Then] I ask sadly, full of grief (sorrow): "What does it mean-- is it then summer?" 2. When tree and branch are dried [?], And birds I see only in cages; When the [?] has quite disappeared, And angry winds are speeding by, - [Then] I do not ask: "What should it mean? - I know the time, I am acquainted with [these] times!.... Both the same. land (country) And for her father's fame (glory). 5. Jeptha's daughter rests (lies) there Far from human kind Just four days in every year, Is the loneliness [up there] disturbed. 6. Then come Gilod's daughters With sad (mournful) song, And all the rocks give back, A dull echo [of that song] 7 They mourn load, they mourn long, And lay a wreathe up there, And dance upon that dumb (silent) hill, A desert (gloomy, mournful) grave-dance. 9. And as they sing it seems to them [That] One other sings with them, That the dead one dances among [them] With invisible steps.Word Vapor (Steam) Word choosing, song writing - Long already have I wearied of it, - From the wounds in my heart To press lyric-sweet wine. I have made from my woes A museum for the gazing, So that clever (glib) readers should Taste (take satisfaction or delight) in the poet's pain (suffering). No, I will not weave any verses, Will spin no more rhymes, I shall not let my suffering any more Into empty vapor to ooze (leak) I shall sing not a single song, I shall say not a single word, Let the ache hide itself And choked up, my heart shall bow (bend). Perhaps it will enrich me Each song that is not sung? - May be it will strengthen me Each tear that I have swallowed. A Ghetto Legend. To the prophet (great man) a knight with golden spurs Comes quietly (secretly) every night; With feathers (plumes) bedecked in his shiny (glittering, burnished) brass cap (hat, helm) His body (literally, breast) is covered (dressed) in velvet. 2. In the poor (poverty-stricken) room, where from a little lamp The weak and wretched light burns dimly [There] The Gentile Prince sits and listens To the wisdom of the Jewish prophet (great man). 3. But (yet) before the bells being to ring For morning prayer in the town (city) The knight steals out of the ghetto And no one discovers his secret. 4. The Rabbi (prophet scholar) sits and learns (studies), ne'er sees in the day time The prince who at night visits him; In the Talmud's thoughts (lore) and in actions (activities - conduct) only [of the Prince] (I think) Shows itself the fruits (results) of the Rabbi's (scholar's) wise learning (or teachings). Still often the prince with his resplendent (brilliant) counsel (council, cabinet, advisers) Rides at day through the ghetto and looks overThoughtfully upon the house where his Jewish Rabbi (teacher, scholar) Lives hidden in dirt and in poverty. I have given four or five synonyms for the one original However word. I believe however it may well mean in any particular place any one of these: Prophet, great man, scholar, teacher, rabbi. The word really means a great and learned man. [?] Mother to Child Raisin Sleep, dear child, sleep on, sleep on [Of] Out of doors are cold & storm Oh, may God have mercy, dear - May God keep us safe & warm! Oh, the winter frightens me! Covered lie, & breathe no sighs! Sleep, poor birdie, still sleep on Do not open your little eyes. Cold the world you You a cold world will behold . White, all white - & what is worse [No] In the house no stick bit of wood And no coin in the purse. Nothing cooked, no heat, no fire Cold & hunger are our fate. Sleep, my frozen child, sleep on Baby poor& desolate."Poet, go write!" Then are transformed into fire My body and my soul And the strings of my heart Begin to move around quickly, As the tender roses When a mild zephyr caresses them.The Jewish Child by [T.?] Frug. in nine stanzas of four lines each Rhime: first and third. second and fourth. meter: trochaic four feet to line Prose translation by Prof Leo Witner Yiddish Literature in the Nineteenth Century page 309. Deeply buried in darkness, far from air and light, - do you see yonder the blind worm, as he creeps? In the ground he was born, and it is decreed that forever, yes forever, he shall creep upon the earth... Like a warm in the darkness, weak and mute and blind, - you live through the years of childhood, Jewish child! At your cradle your mother sings not a song of a quiet peaceful life, of freedom, peace, Of the gardens, of the fields, where the blooming child plays and gladdens free and merry like the mind. No, a spring of deep sorrow bubbles and resounds...Oh, how bitter is the song that she sings! Deep sobs, hot tears, hunger, cold, drag along with you in the world.[Stamp BOSTONIA] SCHOOL BOSTON, 190 [?] from your cradle to your grave, upon the journey, there grow - whole famish of sorrows without and...[Stamp BOSTONIAN] SCHOOL BOSTON, 190 7. The Song of Work I For you, my poor brethren and sisters, Who are scattered and spread throughout the world Who crawl and blunder about (loseway) upon thousands of paths, In rain, in storm, in heat and in cold. II For you, o, man of continual sighs and groans, You sinister, (morbid gloomy) mourning, wailing JEW [For you] sounds, and sings, and echoes, and rings. My fresh, my life-joyous song III In thousand streams life pours itself out And comes forth to the old, eternal shove The world is for on a blossoming garden, For thousands a heavy swampy (marshy) road. 8. IV O, praise in song the exertion (effort) and work (toil)! Sing, greet them heartily, lovingly and warmly! Strong shall be the hands that are calloused, And [strong shall be] the brow, from which perspiration (sweat) pours! V Blessed be the workshop, the spindle, The hammer, the scythe, the sickle and the saw! The world is for one a blossoming garden, For the thousands - a heavy, swampy (marshy), road (way). VI Palatable, brethren, are the rich man's foods! More palatable than everything - the little piece of bread, That comes from ones own, honest work With sweat and with exertion (effort), but without want. 9. VII Good is rich man's sleep in his room, Upon soft little pillows, white as snow; Still better - a slumber at twighlight, just after work In the field, upon a fresh haystack. VIII Much brighter shines the sun after a rain; Warmth - dearer and sweeter after cold; Only those, who have experienced adversity (misfortune), Understand what it means to be happy (fortunate) in the world... IX The file is of steel, the hammer - of iron Quite simply made and not particularly beautiful, By means of them however are made the sword and coat-of-mail And even the sacred crown itself. OVER10. X The sickle is of steel, the flail - of iron: No great decoration are they; In them however lies our power, our life, Without them a single step is impossible. XI Then praise them, and sing of exertion (effort) and toil! Sing, and greet them lovingly, heartily and warmly! May the hands that are calloused be healthy, And the brow (forehead), from which pours the sweat! To the Writer. I My brother! you are in bad straits, I know; But bear up and carry the yoke, the heavy one, Stand proudly and firmly upon your place: It must, it will become light! 11. II The darkness isn't fearful (terrible)- It will begin to dawn; The rays (of light) will from the world The black night drive away (chase). III There will awake from slumber Altogether new men with new brains They will bring upon the world Much new, fresh, strong vigor. IV Many bright rays, great lights Will then be lighted; The sick one will gain strength (might) And light will come to the blind. V That must be, brother! -- but now, For the present -- let God be thanked, I'm sure, For every ray, for every spark, That is lighted up in our lives!Rests not a moment, Always strife and the knife So that the earth sinks in its blood! 2. That I might get wings, to fly to you, To see where you stand in Education; Is it that you care not to trouble yourselves with it? That you are yet wild (savage) in apish form? Or have you penetrated (discerned - understood) everything, Hidden Nature - as superior spirits can? Is everywhere light for you (is everything clear to you); no curtain hung to hide? [If so] Oh fortunate beings, how happy you are! Here upon our earth, One is blind, as a[n] child, One knows no beginning (origin). There is no worth in one's thoughts, For naught the brain is wearied (tortured): What is the origin of life,How is thought possible (literally: how is it thought in the quiet)? Who is spirit, [an] soul? What is man's destiny? The machinery of mind, How dreams it in sleep? One becomes empty, - unconscious - no philosopher knows how. 4. It were interesting to me to know In which stage your Culture is One as simple and honest, conscience - clear, [Only] As we are sometimes - when we are yet young? Or have you already risen in progress, With a disciplined civilized trained conscience, in all alike? And with no false hearts to be seen? [If so] Oh, fortunate beings, how happy are you! Here upon our earth, the child is quickly enough driven to school, But the jail [none the less] becomes more full, each day; He who has more education, Looks out only for himself, Culture only sharpens the tool (lit: knife) With which quickly to annihilate (kill) the other. Betrayal and cleverness go hand in hand (literally: are well paired); He who wants to be upright (lit. fine) Finds no room upon the earth. 5. Does rank (literally: honor) also play a role up there As it does here upon earth? A "lord" and a "count" get the recognition, Any one descended from "blue-bloods"? Or is it that democrats and aristocrats Are words which your lexicon does not contain, You are all of the same rank as children of the same father, [If so] Oh fortunate beings, how happy are you! Here upon the earth, The serf (servant) is badly off,Cheap [is held] his person, Oppressed and smothered, And must not open his mouth [to complain]. All his toil (the products of his labor Goes to his employer, No protest avails, For might rules. Weakened, scorned, Regarded as a horse, To the "Baron", the "Pann", [Russian for Sir, Gentleman or Esquire] To him belongs the soil ..... 9 Exists up there also the coin Which labels you "poor" or "rich"? It [the coin] is "scholar" and 'nobility" (rank) has the power of decision, Truth and justice fall (bow) before her! Or do you live as we used to of old, You are nourished from tree from river from soil? You know not of sorrow, what "money" can mean,Tis summer to-day, lovely, summer to-day! DO you list to the time that I [?] for your car The golden sun shines in the deep azure sky, My airy friends sing in the wood, white + clear the flies in the green grass are buzzing about the flowers blossom brightly + shed rich perfume soft bubbles the fountain, [?] low murmurs the stream You have [?] enough in the factory's gloom Arise, Nature hates the not more than the rest It is summer to-day, lovely summer to-day Now everyone breathes in [?] happy and gay. And all things are asking why you are not there? You are not omitted in Nature's great plan. Your [?] portion is there, yes your [?] There take it, now is there, take it, O laboring man! Fair summer is here, fair summer is here! The butterflies dance over the flowers, budding new Refreshingly drizzles the silvery rain The mountains stand green + besprinkled with dew The air now is mingled with soft fragrant scents. The slugh in the blooming vale skip in their mirth The shepherd the voice of the shepherdess [?] The sweet, sacred season has come to the earth Delay not, like lightning life passes away Fair summer is here, lovely summer is here! The wheel may grow dumb for awhile -you have toiled So long and so bitterly, void of all cheer hard, without pleasure or Your strength, once like iron, you have squandered So foolishly, passing laborious days! Oh, do not [?] it is folly to leave The [c??] of enjoyment with gusto [?]! Fair summer is here, lovely summer is here! I shall not sing this to always as now My time for departure will also arrive The black crow will take my place on the bough The sacred song sink into silence and die Oh, while I still sing you in notes clear and strong, the sweet golden vision of freedom and love, Rise, let me not have to [?] you of long! The heavens remains not eternally blue Fair summer is here, lovely summer is here And while it [remains] is here, but no longer alas We can spend our lives [?] in joy and in cheer For like you, why are fading away [?] your [wh???] Fade all things at last in the [s??????] of frost Life and time are made up of brief moments alone if a moment is [?] then the battle is lostAUTHOR OF NATIONAL QUESTIONS: Hebrew—25 CTS. THE DRAMA OF BLOOD: English—$1.00 THE CHILD'S PRAYER: Hebrew and English—$1.00 FOR FRAMING AND HANGING OVER A CHILD'S BED DR. LOUIS A. ALEXANDER Superintendent HEBREW HIGH SCHOOL 39 EAST CONCORD ST. RESIDENCE 662 Massachusetts Avenue Boston, Mass., 190 The Nightingale to the Laborer. Beautiful Summer is to-day, beautiful summer is to-day! Do you listen to the melody I sing for you? In the deep blue [?] the golden [?] shines, My airy friend, sing in the forest And the flies buzz in the green grass; [?] chatters the [?] and murmers the river And the flowers blossom and smell richly - Enough for you As [plan] lie in the [S??l?m]! Get up, nature [?] dislike you [??ches], - Beautiful Summer is to-day, beautiful Summer is to-day! Much enjoyment, much pleasure, Everyone breaks, everyone enjoys, [?], where are you? [?] is there, you, your [sh???] in [?] - Take it, oh, take it, you man of labor! Beautiful Summer is now, beautiful Summer is now!the butterfly dance on the flowers, The silvery rain drizzles [?] The mountains stand green and besprinkled, The air is mixed with perfumes; The sheep jump in the flowery valley The shepherd hears already the voice of the shepherdess, The sacred time has arrived! So must make delays, like passes like lightening, - Beautiful summer is now, beautiful summer is now: The wheel may grow dumb for a while, - You have [?] so long, so [?] Spent so foolishly your iron strength. Oh, do not persuade yourself, that life is a folly Lift up with gusto the cup of enjoyment. III Beautiful summer is here, beautiful summer is here! I shall not sing it to you forever. Then [?] how will also come at least, My branch will take away the gloomy cross, The sacred song will die away. Oh, as long as I sing to you down from the tree The golden dream of liberty and love lift yourself and do not let me [?] long... The sky does not [?] eternally [?], Beautiful summer is here, beautiful summer is here! Now one can spend his time cheerfully. For [?] like you who fades away as the machine Fades away everything at last and is carried off; Moments only form life and mine, - Missed one moment - the battle is lost. With best regards Yours very truly [?] AlexanderThe Old Tailor. From Morris Rosenfeld. He has been sitting sewing many years; On his pale face the perspiration stands; His beard already has grown snowy white, White as the thread that passes through his hands. Scarcely a master is there in the town For whom he has not worked in his long life, Yet not a cent he has within his purse, Nor bread at home to feed his child and wife. Early he seeks the shop, and hires his hand Already, for his labor without end; He earns continually, without rest, And not a penny does he ever spend. He is at work when dawn begins to grow, And still he toils, long after daylight's close; And always, always, where to find a loan he sits and ponders sadly as he sews. With him his master is well satisfied; He does not often argue or dispute, He raises no disturbance in the shop, Nor rails against his trade, but labors mute. He comes in silence and in silence goes; His cough alone to speak for him in fain. His glasses cover and conceal his tears, As his breast covers and conceals its pain. The working people all with sorrow gaze Upon the sick man with his many woes; They look with pity on his weary back, Still bending over as he sits and sews. (over) Massachusetts Woman Suffrage Association 6 MARLBOROUGH STREET, BOSTON President, Mrs. Lucia Ames Mead Vice-President, Mrs. Mary Schlesinger HONORARY VICE-PRESIDENTS Mrs. Julia Ward Howe William Lloyd Garrison Mrs. Oliver Ames Hon. George A. O. Ernst Hon. John D. Long Mrs. Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward Mrs. Geo. F. Richardson Rev. Philip S. Moxom Mrs. Quincy A. Shaw Col. Thomas W. Higginson Mrs. Charles Stott Mrs. May Alden Ward Hon. John L. Bates Rabbi Charles Fleischer Mrs. H. L. Tibbetts Miss Amanda M. Lougee William I. Bowditch Mr. Edward H. Clement Miss Lucia M. Peabody Mrs. Mary C. Atkinson Prof. Borden P. Bowne Prof. George E. Gardner Rev. Charles G. Ames Rev. Charles F. Dole Rev. P. S. Henson D.D. Rev. William E. Huntington, D.D. Mrs. Fanny B. Ames Rev. J. L. Withrow, D.D. Hon. Samuel L. Powers Rev Nathan E. Wood, D.D. Miss Mary F. Eastman Hon. Gorham D. Gilman Miss Helen A. Whittier Hon. Josiah Quincy Hon. W. W. Crapo Mrs. Katherine Lente Stevenson Mrs. Emma Walker Batcheller Mrs. Ole Bull Mrs. Susan S. Fessenden Clerk, Mrs. Margaret Grant Stone Corresponding Secretary, Mrs. Ada W. Tillinghast Treasurer, Mrs. Gertrude B. Newell 6 Marlborough Street, Boston Auditors, Mr. Arthur Perry, Mrs. John Leonard Chairman Board of Directors, Miss Alice Stone Blackwell CHAIRMEN OF STANDING COMMITTEES Finance, Mrs. Mary Schlesinger Industrial Conditions, Mrs. M. H. Page Enrolment, Mr. Henry B. Blackwell Acting Chairman, Mrs. John Leonard Meetings, Mrs. George F. Lowell School Suffrage, Mrs. Emma L. Blackwell Organization, Mrs. M. H. Page Acting Chairman, Mrs. H. A. Eager Legislation and Civics, Mrs. Otto B. Cole Literature and Press Work , Miss Alice Stone Blackwell Church Work, Miss H. E. Turner Already death's black seal, the punishment For his long honesty, they all can view; And in that aged man, as in a glass, They see their own end, which is coming too.2 ,האט לך ערווארטען שווערערע נסיונות מיט דיא פערבערעכענס א מארמלער שטרינט און מיט דדיא נארישקונט פון אונזער ? זאן זינן אזוי. מתר וועלען מיט גאטוס הילף זיך אנגורטען צוד לוקטנפטיגען כאמפף מיר וועלען שטארק פערהייציגען גאטס ווארט און אונזער פונד לושטרונען וויא דעם דאמפף מיר נעהמען דיא געוועהר פון גאטיס גערוכט: דיא ווארהייט און דיא פיעבע און דאס פוכט.