Weep not for the old, the lost Jerusalem.
Weep for the new
in a strange land, in a strange land
the tears of joy not now.
Weep for the maiden at the waiting well,
the cup unfilled,
the honey that will flow
in a strange land.
Time was, no longer;
is to be.
Then upon a time
there will be once
what is now breath,
what is now this
and dust are those maidens that will go
hand in hand, in a strange land.
From: Frankenberg, Lloyd, “Jerusalem” in Poetry, Volume 75, number 4, January 1950, p 197.
(https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?volume=75&issue=4&page=11)
Date: 1950
By: Lloyd Frankenberg (1907-1975)
From Troubles of The World 
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