Yehoash

Yehoash Poems

Yehoash Biography

Yehoash was the pen name for Solomon Blumgarten, also known as Solomon Bloomgarden (1872-1927), a Yiddish-language poet, scholar and Bible translator. Yehoash "is generally recognized by those familiar with this literature [Yiddish], as its greatest living poet and one of its most skillful raconteurs", according to a New York Times book review in 1923. His output included verse, translations, poetry, short stories, essays and fables in Yiddish and some articles in English. His poetry was translated into Russian, Dutch, Polish, Finnish, German, Spanish, English and Hebrew. He was responsible for translating many works of world literature into Yiddish, including Longfellow's Hiawatha and a very popular translation of the Bible. His version was hailed as a contribution of national significance and perhaps the greatest masterpiece in the Yiddish language. His two volume edition became a standard work for Yiddish speaking homes throughout the world. Born in Virbalis, Lithuania (then considered part of Russian-ruled Poland), he emigrated to the United States in 1890 and settled in New York. For a decade he was a businessman, but wrote full-time starting in 1900 when he entered a sanitarium for tuberculosis. A visit to Palestine in 1914 led him to write a three-volume work describing the trip and the country. His description was later translated into English as The Feet of the Messenger. His translations included parts of the Koran, classical Arabic writings and Sayings of the Fathers (Pirke Aboth). With Dr. O. D. Spivak, he wrote a dictionary of the Hebrew and Chaldaic elements of Yiddish, illustrated with idiomatic expressions and proverbs. He died suddenly at his home at 943 Whitlock Avenue in The Bronx, where he lived with his wife, Flora, and his daughter, Evelyn (Chave), at the time a student at Hunter College. At the time of his death, he was an editor at The Day newspaper.)

The Best Poem Of Yehoash

Song of the Texas Ranger

I
The morning star is paling,
The camp fires flicker low,
Our steeds are madly neighing
For the bugle bids us go;
So put the foot in stirrup,
And shake the bridle free,
For today the Texas Rangers
Must cross the Tennessee!
With Wharton for our leader,
We'll chase the dastard foe,
Till our horses bathe their fetlocks
In the deep blue Ohio.
II
Our men come from the prairies
Rolling broad, and proud, and free,
From the high and craggy mountains,
To the murmuring Mexic sea;
And their hearts are open as their plains,
Their thoughts are proudly brave
As the bold cliffs of the San Bernard,
Or the Gulf's resistless wave.
Then quick into the saddle,
And shake the bridle free,
Today with gallant Wharton,
We cross the Tennessee.
III
'Tis joy to be a Ranger;
To fight for dear Southland;
'Tis joy to follow Wharton,
With his gallant, trusty band;
'Tis joy to see our Harrison
Plunge, like a meteor bright,
Into the thickest of the fray,
And strike with dreadful might.
Oh! who would not be a Ranger,
And follow Wharton's cry,
To battle for their country-
And if it need be- die!
IV
Up with the crimson battle-flag!
Let the blue pennon fly!
Our steeds are stamping proudly,
They hear the battle-cry.
The thundering bomb, the bugle's call,
Proclaim the foe is near,
We strike for God and native land,
And all we hold most dear.
Then spring into the saddle,
And shake the bridle free-
For Wharton leads thro' fire and blood,
For Home and Victory!

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