Page:The Man Who Died Twice (1924).djvu/88

 Now I can beat my drum and let those drums

Of death pound as they will. Once, for an hour,

I lived; and for an hour my cup was full

With wine that not a hundred, if a score,

Have tasted that are told in history.

Having it unconfirmed, I might be mad

Today if a wise God had not been kind,

And given me zeal to serve Him with a means

That you deplore and pardonably distrust.

The dower of ignorance is to distrust

All that it cannot feel, and to be rich

In that which it has not. I can be rich

In all that I have had, and richer still

In this that I have now. Glory to God!

Mine are the drums of life, and though I wait

For no more messengers—or for none save one,

Who will be coming soon—I had it, once.