Classic Poem

The gods are there, they hide their lordly faces
From you that will not kneel--
Worship, and they reveal,
Call--and 'tis they!
They have not changed, nor moved from their high places,
The stars stream past their eyes like drifted spray;
Lovely to look on are they as bright gold,
They are wise with beauty, as a pool is wise.
Lonely with lilies; very sweet their eyes--
Bathed deep in sunshine are they, and very cold.