Classic Poem

When Abraham was young, there sought his tent,
Pitched on the plain of Ur among the herds,
A desert-farer tremulous and bent
With years and travel, whom with kindly words
The shepherd welcomed; then he bathed his feet,
Assuaged his burning thirst, before him placed.

Cool melons, honey, and the strengthening meat
Of late-weaned kids; but when in undue haste
The stranger reached to banquet, gently set
A hand upon the wanderer's, murmuring low,
“Thy pardon brother; dost thou not forget
To thank thy God from Whom all blessings flow?”

The stranger answered, mocking, “Nay, good youth!
But much I fear thy wit is held in thrall
To lying, priest-spun legends. Know the truth.
There is no God. 'Tis nature gives us all.”
First Abraham chid gently; but a fire
Lurks in the tongue; and, vexed and taunted sore
With blasphemies, the shepherd rose in ire
And drove the gray-haired scoffer from his door.

To him within his tent at evening-close
Still brooding on that deed in anger done,
A Voice spake, grateful as the wind that blows
Among the cedars: “Abraham, my son.”
The shepherd answered, “Father, here am I.”
“Where is the stranger-guest that hither came?”
It breathed again. The strong chief made reply,
“I cast him forth! He did deny Thy Name,
Almighty Lord!” Then spake the Voice Divine
In solemn blame: “My son, thou didst not well.

“Did I not shape his frame as I shaped thine?
Did I not cause the same red blood to swell
His pulsing veins? Have I not blessed ye both
With the same laughter, sorrows, joys and tears?
Though he reviled My Name with mock or oath,
Have I not borne with him these many years,
Threescore and ten, still patient of the worst
In speech and deed? Yet thou hadst not the grace
The while he stayed his hungering and thirst
Gently to bear with him that little space!”