66
SONGS OF EXILE
Upon the ninth day—wrath, disgrace, and shame!
Stripped off was my fair robe in honor worn;
For he who gave sweet words was surely torn:
Ezra the scribe—yea, he of blessed name.
The tenth day: then the seer was bidden: "Yea,
Write thee within the book of vision; write
This for remembrance; now shalt thou indite
For them despised and crushed this selfsame day."
Counting the months, within the tenth the woe
And wail he wakened; but the sorrow's smart—
Its onward way was branded on my heart
When one came saying: "The city is struck low."
For these things I have scattered o'er me dust:
O that a shaft had pierced mine heart that day!
For such woe I would dig my grave;—but nay,
I wrought rebelliously: the Lord is just.
