Florence Kiper Frank
There are nearly a quarter of a million Jews in the Czar’s army alone.—Newspaper clipping.
There are nearly a quarter of a million Jews in the Czar’s army alone.—Newspaper clipping.
There are nearly a quarter of a million Jews in the Czar’s army alone.—Newspaper clipping.
They have dressed me up in a soldier’s dress,With a rifle in my hand,And have sent me bravely forth to shootMy own in a foreign land.Oh, many shall die for the fields of their homes,And many in conquest wild;But I shall die for the fatherlandThat murdered my little child.How many hundreds of years ago—The nations wax and cease!—Did the God of our fathers doom us to bearThe flaming message of peace!We are the mock and the sport of time!Yet why should I complain!—For a Jew that they hung on the bloody cross,He also died in vain.
They have dressed me up in a soldier’s dress,With a rifle in my hand,And have sent me bravely forth to shootMy own in a foreign land.Oh, many shall die for the fields of their homes,And many in conquest wild;But I shall die for the fatherlandThat murdered my little child.How many hundreds of years ago—The nations wax and cease!—Did the God of our fathers doom us to bearThe flaming message of peace!We are the mock and the sport of time!Yet why should I complain!—For a Jew that they hung on the bloody cross,He also died in vain.
They have dressed me up in a soldier’s dress,With a rifle in my hand,And have sent me bravely forth to shootMy own in a foreign land.
They have dressed me up in a soldier’s dress,
With a rifle in my hand,
And have sent me bravely forth to shoot
My own in a foreign land.
Oh, many shall die for the fields of their homes,And many in conquest wild;But I shall die for the fatherlandThat murdered my little child.
Oh, many shall die for the fields of their homes,
And many in conquest wild;
But I shall die for the fatherland
That murdered my little child.
How many hundreds of years ago—The nations wax and cease!—Did the God of our fathers doom us to bearThe flaming message of peace!
How many hundreds of years ago—
The nations wax and cease!—
Did the God of our fathers doom us to bear
The flaming message of peace!
We are the mock and the sport of time!Yet why should I complain!—For a Jew that they hung on the bloody cross,He also died in vain.
We are the mock and the sport of time!
Yet why should I complain!—
For a Jew that they hung on the bloody cross,
He also died in vain.
She knows a cheap releaseFrom worry and from pain—The cowboys spur their horsesOver the unending plain.The tenement rooms are small;Their walls press on the brain.Oh, the dip of the galloping horsesOn the limitless, wind-swept plain!
She knows a cheap releaseFrom worry and from pain—The cowboys spur their horsesOver the unending plain.The tenement rooms are small;Their walls press on the brain.Oh, the dip of the galloping horsesOn the limitless, wind-swept plain!
She knows a cheap releaseFrom worry and from pain—The cowboys spur their horsesOver the unending plain.
She knows a cheap release
From worry and from pain—
The cowboys spur their horses
Over the unending plain.
The tenement rooms are small;Their walls press on the brain.Oh, the dip of the galloping horsesOn the limitless, wind-swept plain!
The tenement rooms are small;
Their walls press on the brain.
Oh, the dip of the galloping horses
On the limitless, wind-swept plain!
I go my way complacently,As self-respecting persons should.You are to me the rebel thought,You are the wayward rebel mood.What shall we share who are separate?We part—as alien persons should.But oh, I have need of the rebel thought,And a wicked urge to the rebel mood!
I go my way complacently,As self-respecting persons should.You are to me the rebel thought,You are the wayward rebel mood.What shall we share who are separate?We part—as alien persons should.But oh, I have need of the rebel thought,And a wicked urge to the rebel mood!
I go my way complacently,As self-respecting persons should.You are to me the rebel thought,You are the wayward rebel mood.
I go my way complacently,
As self-respecting persons should.
You are to me the rebel thought,
You are the wayward rebel mood.
What shall we share who are separate?We part—as alien persons should.But oh, I have need of the rebel thought,And a wicked urge to the rebel mood!
What shall we share who are separate?
We part—as alien persons should.
But oh, I have need of the rebel thought,
And a wicked urge to the rebel mood!