THE ALTAR AT ATHENS.["TO THE UNKNOWN GOD."]
Because my life was hollow with a pain
As old as—death: because my eyes were dry
As the fierce tropics after months of rain:
Because my restless voice said "Why?" and "Why?"
As old as—death: because my eyes were dry
As the fierce tropics after months of rain:
Because my restless voice said "Why?" and "Why?"
Wounded and worn, I knelt within the night,
As blind as darkness—Praying? And to Whom?—
When yon cold crescent cut my folded sight,
And showed a phantom Altar in my room.
As blind as darkness—Praying? And to Whom?—
When yon cold crescent cut my folded sight,
And showed a phantom Altar in my room.
It was the Altar Paul at Athens saw.
The Greek bowed there, but not the Greek alone;
The ghosts of nations gathered, wan with awe,
And laid their offerings on that shadowy stone.
The Greek bowed there, but not the Greek alone;
The ghosts of nations gathered, wan with awe,
And laid their offerings on that shadowy stone.
The Egyptian worshipped there the crocodile,
There they of Nineveh the bull with wings;
The Persian there, with swart sun-lifted smile,
Felt in his soul the writhing fire's bright stings.
There they of Nineveh the bull with wings;
The Persian there, with swart sun-lifted smile,
Felt in his soul the writhing fire's bright stings.
There the weird Druid held his mistletoe;
There for the scorched son of the sand, coiled bright,
The torrid snake was hissing sharp and low;
And there the Atlantic savage paid his rite.
There for the scorched son of the sand, coiled bright,
The torrid snake was hissing sharp and low;
And there the Atlantic savage paid his rite.
"Allah!" the Moslem darkly muttered there;
"Brahma!" the jewelled Indies of the East
Sighed through their spices, with a languid prayer;
"Christ?" faintly questioned many a paler priest.
"Brahma!" the jewelled Indies of the East
Sighed through their spices, with a languid prayer;
"Christ?" faintly questioned many a paler priest.
And still the Athenian Altar's glimmering Doubt
On all religions—evermore the same.
What tears shall wash its sad inscription out?
What Hand shall write thereon His other name?
On all religions—evermore the same.
What tears shall wash its sad inscription out?
What Hand shall write thereon His other name?