Sonnet on Rachel’s Tomb

O Mother Rachel, if indeed your tomb
Holds, even now, a reservoir of power
For Jewish hearts, then send us in this hour
Some surge, that we may stand against the doom
Our enemies, whom rage and lust consume,
Design for us, while mighty nations cower!
Arise, and plead with Heaven to spare the bower
Of mercy, and give truth and kindness room!

Upon your humble dwelling-place the fears
And hopes of all the earth crowd in to see
Whether you have yet shed sufficient tears
To quench these flames, wash off this infamy.
Soon may the exile of these thousand years
End with your children walking toward you, free!