“My
father bequeathed me no wide estates;
No
keys and ledgers were my heritage;
Only
some holy books with yahrzeit dates
Writ
mournfully upon a blank front page —
“Books
of the Baal Shem Tov, and of his wonders;
Pamphlets
upon the devil and his crew;
Prayers
against road demons, witches, thunders;
And
sundry other tomes for a good Jew.
“Beautiful:
though no pictures on them, save
The
scorpion crawling on a printed track;
The
Virgin floating on a scriptural wave,
Square
letters twinkling in the Zodiac.
“The
snuff left on this page, now brown and old,
The
tallow stains of midnight liturgy —
These
are my coat of arms, and these unfold
My
noble lineage, my proud ancestry!
“And
my tears, too, have stained this heirloomed ground,
When
reading in these treatises some weird
Miracle,
I turned a leaf and found
A
white hair fallen from my father's beard.”
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