Anyone know the author of this poem?

The mountain air is clear as water. The scent of pines around, Is carried on the breeze of twilight, And tinkling bells resound. The trees and stones there softly slumber, A dream enfolds them all. So solitary lies the city, And at its heart -- a wall. Oh, Jerusalem of gold, and of light and of bronze, I am the lute for all your songs. The wells ran dry of all their water, Forlorn the market square, The Temple Mount dark and deserted, In the Old City there. And in the caverns in the mountain, The winds howl to and fro, And no-one takes the Dead Sea highway, That leads through Jericho. Oh, Jerusalem of gold, and of light and of bronze, I am the lute for all your songs. But as I sing to you, my city, And you with crowns adorn, I am the least of all your children, Of all the poets born. Your name will scorch my lips for ever, Like a seraph's kiss, I'm told, If I forget thee, golden city, Jerusalem of gold. Oh, Jerusalem of gold, and of light and of bronze, I am the lute for all your songs