Poems (Jackson)/"Old Lamps for New"
SOUL! wert thou a poor maid-servant, weakAnd foolish, and unknowing how the wallsOf shining stones and silver, and fine gold,Which made our dwelling glorious, our lifeAssured, were built, that thou must spring at callOf our most deadly foe, lured by the soundAnd glitter of his hollow brass, and giveInto his treacherous hands our all?And nowFor thee and me remaineth nothing more,But cold and hunger and the desert!Soul,Rise up and follow him, and tarry not,Nor dare to call thy life thine own, untilThou hast waylaid him sitting at his feast,And torn our talisman from off his breast!
"OLD LAMPS FOR NEW."
SOUL! wert thou a poor maid-servant, weakAnd foolish, and unknowing how the wallsOf shining stones and silver, and fine gold,Which made our dwelling glorious, our lifeAssured, were built, that thou must spring at callOf our most deadly foe, lured by the soundAnd glitter of his hollow brass, and giveInto his treacherous hands our all?And nowFor thee and me remaineth nothing more,But cold and hunger and the desert!Soul,Rise up and follow him, and tarry not,Nor dare to call thy life thine own, untilThou hast waylaid him sitting at his feast,And torn our talisman from off his breast!