Page:Songs of exile (IA songsofexile00daviiala).pdf/46

42

Zion! O perfect in thy beauty! found

With love bound up, with grace encompassing,

With thy soul thy companions' souls are bound:

They that rejoice at thy tranquillity,

And mourn the wasteness of thine overthrow,

And weep at thy destruction bitterly;

They from the captive's pit, each one that waits

Panting towards thee; all they bending low

Each one from his own place, towards thy gates;

The flocks of all thy multitudes of old

That, sent from mount to hill in scattered flight,

Have yet forgotten nevermore thy fold;

That take fast clinging hold upon thy skirt,

Striving to grasp the palm-boughs on thine height,

To come to thee at last with strength begirt.