Banish its semblance from imploring eyes,
Give men but empty shadow to revere—
Blind beggars leaving them unto whose cry
None answereth when He of Nazareth goes by.
Of this sad modern world of ours to-day
The artist’s picture seemeth counterpart,
When men erase old lessons from the heart,
Striving who farthest from the cross may stray—
Swift, swift descending ’neath the eagles’ shine,
Some longing face still turned to meet the gaze divine.