Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1888-02-29
"POOR IN SPIRIT"
BY STELLA A1KENs ErpLITz

BY STELLA AIKENS EIDLTTZ.
Gray were the skies of Palestine,
Gray were the hills and gray the plains,
Gray the oil We tree ana fruit,
And gray the grape, and gray the vine.
Where Sharon's fertile pastures lay
The tiocks were gray, and gray the maize;
scarlet wild flowers blotched the whole.
The blood-Ted poppy's cups were gray.
A land to waste; mount all crest,
Where long the eternal truth had lain
Locked, like the gray and blessed flood.
The unWeaned Jordan drains her breast.
Fer there ii was it fell like seed
The great truth bred and there twas writ.
The gospel roots have spread and spread
Like crimson tulips wild like Weed.
Gray were the water fowls and gray
The scented rushes. Gray the sea
That unsalled Jordan makes his home
And carries none along his way.
There, lived vouth so long ago
The scarlet hollies in the vale
Scarce multiplied two thousand fold
Fer his gray eyes had seen them blow.
Dark waved his hair his brow above,
That like a spotesS crescent curved
Save for his brows so arched and black.
A handsome boy, true child OF love.
There where the sinuous Jordan crept,
Or, like some serpent bounded on,
Where gray the marshy borders breed
The famished locusts-there he slept.
The youth waxed strong in every part
Yet did he miss some subtitle power.
He was not timid, yet afraid
Of those strange whispers III his heart.
All through the ra.nless days he'd lean
haT
His long, lean fingers on his knees,
Amid the wales OF Palestine.
mot yet o, passionate heart |" he'd sigh.
His bare limbs matched the bare, gray dust,
His rich, red lips, unbearded shamed
The paler tunic round each thigh.
Then would the gray sky grayer seem
Till on his tace the warm rain dript
Then would he toll as one possessed
To do the bidding of dram.
He wove, of scented cane aud blade,
A ladder rung by rung, until
It was so long he could not see
Where lay the rung he first had made.
Gray were the skies of Palestine
And stern aud somber w re the hills,
And gray the mountains tastness doomed;
Yet gave no heights where he could lean
HIS ladder, which he pinned to mount.
The days are long to those who rest
To those who toll the days grow few;
But, oh, how long to those who count.
Not yet passionate heart He'd creep
Along the desolate rivers banks
The way was sweet and thick with bloom.
We crush the petals when we weep.
Not yet. Oh agonizing plaintl
The ladder dragged upon the dust,
The tOpmost rung was on his arm
Twas heavy, aud the lad was faint.
"'Tis WELL" he moaued, 81 may not be
The one to climb, vet WI, lift
The ladder, that my patience built,
That others courage take to See."
Afraid to stop, afraid to try,
His slender hands slipt through each rung
The trembling ladder curves aud sways.
At length It's headed toward the sky.
The youth looked up beyond the stars,
The glory of the truth is his.
He shouts aloud, 81 understand.
Tis firm, he shouts, and mounts the bars.
He aimed it where the clouds have birth
Beyond all sordid hopes. all gains,
Beyond the reach OF human tears,
Aud there he climbed beyond all earth.
The skies are gray of Palestine,
Gray are the Sharon plains as then!
On some unselfish purpose lean
Thy ladder toward a trust divine.
-[Weekly Wisconsin.