The Choosing of Esther

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by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

(FROM THE DRAMA OF MIZPAH)


                                AHASUERAS

   Tell me thy name!

                                  ESTHER

   My name, great sire, is Esther.

                                AHASUERAS

   So thou art Esther? Esther! ’tis a name
   Breathed into sound as softly as a sigh.
   A woman’s name should melt upon the lips
   Like Love’s first kisses, and thy countenance
   Is fit companion for so sweet a name!

                                  ESTHER

   Thou art most kind. I would my name and face
   Were mine own making and not accident.
   Then I might feel elated at thy praise,
   Where now I feel confusion.

                                AHASUERAS

         Thou hast wit
   As well as beauty, Esther. Both are gems
   That do embellish woman in man’s sight.
   Yet they are gems of second magnitude!
   Dost _thou_ possess the one great perfect gem—
   The matchless jewel of the world called _love_?

                                  ESTHER

   Sire, in the heart of every woman dwells
   That wondrous perfect gem!

                                AHASUERAS

         Then, Esther, speak!
   And tell me what is _love_! I fain would know
   Thy definition of that much-mouthed word,
   By woman most employed—least understood.

                                  ESTHER

   What can a humble Jewish maiden know
   That would instruct a warrior and a king?
   I have but dreamed of love as maidens will
   While thou hast known its fulness. All the world
   Loves Great Ahasueras!

                                AHASUERAS

         All the world
   _Fears great_ Ahasueras! Kings, my child,
   Are rarely loved as anything but kings.
   Love, as I see it in the court and camp,
   Means seeking royal favour. I would know
   How love is fashioned in a maiden’s dreams.

                                  ESTHER

   Sire, love seeks nothing that kings can bestow.
   Love is the king of all kings here below;
   Love makes the monarch but a bashful boy,
   Love makes the peasant monarch in his joy;
   Love seeks not place, all places are the same,
   When lighted by the radiance of love’s flame.
   Who deems proud love could fawn to power and splendour
   Hath known not love, but some base-born pretender.

                                AHASUERAS

   If this be love, I would know more of it.
   Speak on, fair Esther! What is love beside?

                                  ESTHER

   Love is in all things, all things are in love.
   Love is the earth, the sea, the skies above;
   Love is the bird, the blossom, and the wind;
   Love hath a million eyes, yet love is blind;
   Love is a tempest, awful in its might;
   Love is the silence of a moon-lit night;
   Love is the aim of every human soul;
   And he who hath not loved hath missed life’s goal!

                                AHASUERAS

   But tell me of thyself, of thine own dreams!
   How wouldst thou love, and how be loved again?

                                  ESTHER

   Who most doth love thinks least of love’s return;
   She is content to feel the passion burn
   In her own bosom, and its sacred fire
   Consumes each selfish purpose and desire.
   ’Tis in the giving, love’s best rapture lies,
   Not in the counting of the things it buys.

                                AHASUERAS

   Yet, is there not vast anguish and despair
   In love that finds no answering word or smile?

                                  ESTHER

   So radiant is love, it lends a glow
   To each dark sorrow and to every woe.
   To love completely is to part with pain,
   Nor is there mortal who can love in vain.
   Love is its own reward, it pays full measure,
   And in love’s sharpest grief lies subtlest pleasure.

                                AHASUERAS

   Methinks, a mighty warrior, lord or king
   Must in thy fancy play the lover’s part;
   None else could wake such reverential thought.

                                  ESTHER

   When woman loves one born of lowly state,
   Her thought gives crown and sceptre to her mate;
   Yet be he king, or chief of some great clan,
   She loves him but as woman loves a man.
   Monarch or peasant, ’tis the same, I wis
   When once she gives him love’s surrendering kiss.

 


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