Classic Poem

Erewhile beneath the lightning flare of passion
I saw huge visions flung across the gloom;
I built me altars after pagan fashion
And of my hours I made a hecatomb.

I wrought weird gods of night-stuff and of fancy;
I sought their hidden faces for my law:
My days and nights were filled with necromancy,
And an Olympian awe.

O many a night has seen my riot candles,
And heard the drunken revel of my feast,
Till Dawn walked up the blue with burning sandals
And made me curse the east!

For my faith was the faith of dusk and riot,
The faith of fevered blood and selfish lust;
Until I learned that love is cool and quiet
And not akin to dust.

For once, as in apocalyptic vision,
Above my smoking altars I could see
My god's face, veilless, ugly with derision—
The shameless, magnified, projected— Me!

And I have left my ancient fanes to crumble,
And I have hurled my false gods from the sky;
I wish to know the joy of being humble,
To build great Love an altar ere I die.