ON OCEAN’S BOSOM
’Twas a good angel that gave birth to us,
A mother dear, with heart of tenderest mould.
“A mother fondled us, a loving breast
Nurtured us, warm as any breast could be.
A happy father also every day
Gazed in our eyes and kissed us tenderly.
“We had a house, but it has been destroyed;
Our holy things were burned by murderous bands,
Our best and dearest slain—dead bones are they;
Those left were driven forth with fettered hands.
“Known is our country—oh! ’tis recognized
With ease, alas! by ceaseless bloody news
Of baitings, beatings, burnings, riots wild,
Death and destruction dealt to wretched Jews.
“Jews, hapless Jews are we, without a friend,
A joy, or hope of happiness, alack!
Ask us no more, no more! Leave us in peace.
America to Russia drives us back—
“To Russia, whence we fled; to Russia back,
Because we have no money. Journeying thus,
What have we left to look for or to hope?
What good is life or this dark world to us?
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