For centuries gone—when these Jews prayed to serpents of bronze and calves that were golden
In Ephesus, Arcady, Athens, our reverent love was beholden
To the goddess of prophecy, music, the lyre, of light, inspiration,
Who guarded and watches the city and lays the foundation
Of nations and laws. What works we have done, yea still we would heed her—
And look at your barbarous ark in your temple of jewels and cedar!
What is our pollution, our idols, our sacrificed things which are strangled?
I ask you already divided in turbulent parties who wrangled
Concerning salvation of God to the faith of the uncircumcision
In Cyprus and Paphos, where poets of love keep the Hellenic vision.
I am filled with my loathing! Oh keep me a Greek though you make me a whoreson,
When the worship of beauty is dead you may pare off my foreskin.
When the symbol is dead which I mould to Diana our goddess
I’ll retire to the country of Nod, no matter where Nod is.
It will live when your temples are built, if any are builded,
And Jesus in silver is nailed on a cross which is gilded.
And touching this thing is it different to worship a man or abstraction?
Or an idol of silver or stone?—go talk to your spirit’s distraction!
Areopagus listened to Paul, I am told, for Athens is spending
Her time, as of old, in weighing new things and attending.
They heard him in silence! Let his arguments pass uncorrected—
Why, Plato had told us of Er from the dead resurrected!