Talitha Cumi by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

It translates from Aramaic to "Little girl, arise" or "Little girl, I say to you, get up." These are the very words Jesus uses to bring Jairus's daughter back to life in the Gospel of Mark (5:41). Longfellow chooses this phrase as the title to hint at the miracle that isn’t depicted in the poem — it serves as a reminder of the ending the reader is already familiar with.

Jairus is a real figure from the New Testament — he served as a ruler of the synagogue, which means he was a respected religious leader in his community. His story is told in the books of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. When he kneels before Jesus, it holds weight because synagogue rulers and Jesus often had conflicts; however, his daughter's illness strips all that away, revealing just a concerned father.

Yes. It comes from Christus: A Mystery (1872), a three-part dramatic poem that Longfellow worked on for decades. This scene is found in the first section, The Divine Tragedy, which dramatizes events from the life of Jesus. The poem is structured like a script, featuring character names as stage directions.

The brevity is intentional. Longfellow reduces the moment to a single desperate speech — no narration, no description, only the father's voice. This shortness reflects the urgency: there’s no time for anything more. It also makes the reader feel like they’ve arrived mid-crisis, which is precisely where Jairus finds himself.

The poem doesn't follow a strict rhyme scheme — it's written in blank verse with a loose iambic pentameter. Lines such as "My daughter lieth at the point of death" flow naturally with ten syllables and alternating stress. The absence of rhyme gives it a sense of genuine, desperate speech instead of a refined song.

At its core, the poem explores the themes of faith and death—particularly, faith in the presence of death. It also delves into the love shared between a parent and child, as well as our natural inclination to search for something greater than ourselves when we feel helpless. The miracle occurs offstage, allowing the narrative to emphasize the human experience over the supernatural elements.

The Latin title Christus is the one Longfellow employs throughout the trilogy, adding a formal, almost liturgical distance to the work. This choice indicates that it’s a dramatic and poetic retelling instead of a personal devotional, keeping the figure feeling elevated and archetypal rather than relatable.

Longfellow lost his wife Frances in a tragic fire in 1861. The grief he felt was overwhelming, and his later poetry reflects deep themes of loss, death, and a yearning for healing. A tale about a father pleading for his child to return from death would have resonated deeply with him — Christus became, in part, a means for him to navigate his own struggles with mortality and faith.