Adah Isaacs Menken Poems

Where is the promise of my years;
Once written on my brow?
Ere errors, agonies and fears
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Ashkelon is not cut off with the remnant of a valley.
Baldness dwells not upon Gaza.
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I see her yet, that dark-eyed one,
Whose bounding heart God folded up
In His, as shuts when day is done,
Upon the elf the blossom's cup.
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In the Beginning, God, the great Schoolmaster, wrote upon the white leaves of our souls the text of life, in His own autograph.
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I.
'Carry me out of the host, for I am wounded.'
The battle waged strong.
A fainting soul was borne from the host.
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Who hath not sent out ships to sea?
Who hath not toiled through light and darkness to make them strong for battle?
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Bright as the light that burns at night
In the starry depths of Aiden,
When star and moon in leafy June
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Where shall I lead the flocks to-day?
Is there no Horeb for me beyond this desert?
Is there no rod with which I can divide this sea of blood to
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Look on that form, once fit for the sculptor!
Look on that cheek, where the roses have died!
Working and waiting have robbed from the artist
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I

Lost-lost-lost!
To me, for ever, the seat near the blood of the feast.
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