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With a fleeting sense of God！
THE SEEKER
THE creeds he wrought of dream and thought Fall from him at the
touch of life； His old gods fail him in the strife Withdrawn； the
heavens he sought！
Vanished； the miracles that led； The cloud at noon； the flame at
night； The vision that he wing'd and sped Falls backward； baffled； from
the height；
Yet in the wreck of these he stands Upheld by something grim and
strong； Some stubborn instinct lifts a song And nerves him； heart and
hands：
He does not dare to call it hope； It is not aught that seeks reward
Nor faith； that up some sunward slope Runs aureoled to meet its
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lord；
It touches something elder far Than faith or creed or thought in man；
It was ere yet these lived and ran Like light from star to star；
It touches that stark； primal need That from unpeopled voids and
vast Fashioned the first crude； childish creed； And still shall fashion；
till the last！
For one word is the tale of men： They fling their icons to the sod；
And having trampled down a god They seek a god again！
Stripped of his creeds inherited； Bereft of all his sires held true；
Amid the wreck of visions dead He thrills at touch of visions new。 。 。 。
He wings another Dream for flight。 。 。 。 He seeks beyond the
outmost dawn A god he set there 。 。 。 and； anon； Drags that god from the
height！
。 。 。 。 。 。
But aye from ruined faiths and old That droop and die； fall bruised
seeds； And when new flowers and faiths unfold They're lovelier
flowers； they're kindlier creeds。
THE AWAKENING
THE steam； the reek； the fume； of prayer Blown outward for a
million years； Becomes a mist between the spheres； And waking
Sentience struggles there。
Prayer still creates the boon we pray； And gods we've hoped for；
from those hopes Will gain sufficient form one day And in full
godhood storm the slopes Where ancient Chaos； stark and gray； Already
trembles for his sway。
When that the restless worlds would fly Their wish created rapid
wings； But not till aeons had passed by With dower of many idler
things； And when dumb flesh demanded speech Speech struggled to the
lips at last； Now the unpeopled Void； and vast；
Clean to that uttermost blank beach Whereto the boldest thought may
reach That voyages from the vaguest past （Dim realm and ultimate
of space） Is vexed and troubled； stirs and shakes； In prescience of a god
that wakes； Born of man's wish to see God's face！
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The endless； groping； dumb desires； The climbing incense thick
and sweet； The lovely purpose that aspires； The wraiths of vapor wing'd
and fleet That rise and run with eager feet Forth from a myriad altar
fires： All these become a mist that fills The vales and chasms nebular；
A shaping Soul that moves and thrills The wastes between red star and
star！
A SONG OF MEN
OUT of the soil and the slime； Reeking； they climb；
Out of the muck and the mire； Rank； they aspire；
Filthy with murder and mud； Black with shed blood； Lust and
passion and clay Dying； they slay；
Stirred by vague hints of a goal； Seeking a soul！
Groping through terror and night Up to the light：
Life in the dust and the clod Sensing a God；
Flushed of the glamor and gleam Caught from a dream；
Stained of the struggle and toil； Stained of the soil；
Ally of God in the end Helper and friend
Hero and prophet and priest Out of the beast！
THE NOBLER LESSON
CHRIST was of virgin birth； and； being slain； The creedists say； He
rose from death again。 Oh； futile age…long talk of death and birth！ His
life； that is the one thing wonder…worth； Not how He came； but how He
lived on earth。 For if gods stoop； and with quaint jugglery Mock nature's
laws； how shall that profit thee？ The nobler lesson is that mortals can
Grow godlike through this baffled front of man！
AT LAST
EACH race has died and lived and fought for the 〃true〃 gods of
that poor race； Unconsciously； divinest thought of each race gild… ing
its god's face。 And every race that lives and dies shall make itself
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some other gods； Shall build； with mingled truth and lies； new icons
from the world…old clods。 Through all the tangled creeds and dreams and
shifting shibboleths men hold The false…and…true； inwoven； gleams： a
matted mass of dross and gold。 Prove； then； thy gods in thine own
soul； all others' gods； for thee； are vain； Nor swerved be； struggling
for the goal； by bribe of joy nor threat of pain。
As skulls grow broader； so do faiths； as old tongues die； old gods
die； too；
And only ghosts of gods and wraiths may meet the backward…
gazer's view。 Where； where the faiths of yesterday？ Ah； whither
vanished； whither gone？ Say； what Apollos drive to…day adown the
flaming slopes of dawn？ Oh； does the blank past hide from view
forgotten Christs； to be reborn； The future tremble where some new
Messiah… Memnon sings the morn？ Of all the worlds； say any earth；
like dust wind… harried to and fro； Shall give the next Prometheus
birth； but say at lastyou do not know。
How should I know what dawn may gleam beyond the gates of
darkness there？ Which god of all the gods men dream？ Why
should I whip myself to care？ Whichever over all hath place hath shaped
and made me what I am； Hath made me strong to front his face； to
dare to question though he damn。
Perhaps to cringe and cower and bring a shrine a forced and
faithless faith Is far more futile than to fling your laughter in the face
of Death。 For writhe or whirl in dervish rout； they are not flattered
there on high； Or sham belief to hide a doubtno gods are mine that
love a lie！ Nor gods that beg belief on earth with portents that some
seer foretells Is life itself not wonder…worth that we must cry for
miracles？ Is it not strange enough we breathe？ Does every… thing
not God reveal？ Or must we ever weave and wreathe some creed that
shall his face conceal？ Some creed of which its prophets cry it holds
the secret's all…in…all： Some creed which ever bye and bye doth crumble；
totter； to its fall！ Say any dream of all the dreams that drift and
darkle； glint and glow； Holds most of truth within its gleams； but say
at lastyou do not know。
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Oh； say the soul； from star to star； with victory wing'd； leap on
through space And scale the bastioned nights that bar the secret's
inner dwelling…place； Or say it ever roam dim glades where pallid
wraiths of long…dead moons Flit like blown feathers through the shades；
borne on the breath of sobbing tunes： Say any tide of any time； of all
the tides that ebb and flow； Shall buoy us on toward any clime； but
sayat lastyou do not know！
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