Page:Marlborough and other poems, Sorley, 1919.djvu/59

 That when I have a son of mine,

He shan't be made to droop and pine,

Bound down and forced by rule and rod

To serve a God who is no God.

But I'll put custom on the shelf

And make him find his God himself.

Perhaps he'll find him in a tree,

Some hollow trunk, where you can see.

Perhaps the daisies in the sod

Will open out and show him God.

Or will he meet him in the roar

Of breakers as they beat the shore?

Or in the spiky stars that shine?

Or in the rain (where I found mine)?

Or in the city's giant moan?

—A God who will be all his own,

To whom he can address a prayer

And love him, for he is so fair,

And see with eyes that are not dim

And build a temple meet for him.

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