Jerusalem by Lloyd Frankenberg

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)

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