Songs of Faith

Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau:
Mock on, mock on, 'tis all in vain!
You throw the sand against the wind,
And the wind blows it back again.
And every sand becomes a gem
Reflected in the beams divine;
Blown back they blind the mocking eye,
But still in Israel's paths they shine,

The Atoms of Democritus
And Newton's Particles of light
Are sands upon the Red Sea shore,
Where Israel's tents do shine so bright.

Of God I know not;
But this I know;
I can comprehend no being more wonderful than man;

Man, before the rage of whose passions the storms of Heaven are but a breath;
Before whose caprices the lightning is slow and less fatal;
Man, microcosm of all Creation's wildness, terror, beauty and power,
And whose folly and wickedness are in nothing else existent.

O dirt, you corpse, I reckon you are good manure -- but that I do not smell --
I smell your beautiful white roses --
I kiss your leafy lips -- I slide my hands for the brown melons of your breasts.

Latter-day satyr saints
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