Page:The roamer and other poems (1920).djvu/189

Rh XXXV

reason, what words fall from thee?

"What actor-art is thine to doff and don!

Is God, then, an antique tradition?

In whose name dost thou pray, away from me?"

'T is true, steeped am I in idolatry,

Poor poet, bodied of religion!

It is the only food I feed upon.

Drunken with God I must forever be.

'T is true; each vintage yields me fellowship,

That time has crushed from man's long-suffering race;

But most the name that blessed my childhood's lip

Bears up my manhood to the throne of grace;

And though my bread in all men's tears I dip,

I eat it in old Calvary's weeping-place.