Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/26

Rh lake is there with bitter pools Anigh its margin, brushed by heavy trees. A piping wind the narrow valley cools, Fretting the willows and the cypresses. Gray skies above, and in the gloomy space An awfol presence hath its dwelling-place. I saw a youth pass down that vale of tears ; His head was circled with a crown of thorn, His form was bowed as by the weight of years, His wayworn feet by stones were cut and torn. His eyes were such as have beheld the sword Of terror of the angel of the Lord. He passed, and clouds and shadows and thick haze Fell and encompassed him. I might not see What hand upheld him in those dismal ways. Wherethrough he staggered with his misery. The creeping mists that trooped and spread around, The smitten head and writhing form enwound. Then slow and gradual but sure they rose, Those clinging vapors blotting out the sky. The youth had fallen not, his viewless foes Discomfited, had left the victory