To view with open vision the sublime,

When for the rest an altar-rail sufficed

To obscure the democratic Christ....

Perceiving now his gift, demanding it,

The benison of common benefit,

Men, women, all,

Interpreters of time,

Have found that lordly Christ apocryphal

While Christ the comrade comes again—no wraith

Of virtue in a far-off faith

But a companion hearty, natural,

Who sorrows with indomitable eyes

For his mistreated plan

To share with all men the upspringing sod,

The unfolding skies—

Not God who made Himself the Man,

But a man who proved man’s unused worth—

And made himself the God.

Once you had listened, Celia, to a stream

And lain a long time, silent as a sleeper.

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