Bright ’neath the Syrian sun, dim ’neath the Syrian star,
Thus lieth Galilee’s sea, sapphirine lake Gennesar;
Girdled by mountains that range purple and proud to their crests,
Bearing the burden of dreams,—glamour of eld,—on their breasts.
Just one white glint of a sail dotting the brooding expanse;
Beaches that sparkle and gleam, ripples that darkle and dance;
Grandeur and beauty and peace welded year-long into one,
Under the Syrian star, under the Syrian sun!
And over all and through all memories sweet of His name
Kindling the past with their light, touching the future with flame!
Firelight
Whene’er at evening on the pictured wall
I watch the flickering firelight rise and fall,
From out the shifting shadow-vistas come
The forms of those who marched to martyrdom,—
Unflinching souls no agony could tame,
A martyr wraith for every tongue of flame!
Mother-of-Pearl
Mother-of-pearl out of Bethlehem,
Irradiant with all rainbow lights,—
Shimmering, shifting opal whites,
The June-time rose’s palest fire,
The sunset’s most translucent gold,—
Delicate as a precious gem
Shaped for a lover’s heart’s desire,
Glowing as morn, yet virgin cold!
Mother-of-pearl out of Bethlehem,
Thus I read you, bending above
Your sheen, more fair than the breast of a dove;—
The white is the Mother without a stain;
And the blended hues, the fire and the gold,
They stand for Him who for diadem
Had a crown of thorns, and was basely slain,—
The Son of God clad in mortal mould!