Classic Poem

Let me not worship idols of the Den,
And dogmatize as though my groping thought
Had found the Absolute, by wisdom sought
Since Adam grew a brain of purblind ken.
Presumptuous he whose three score years and ten
Have not this gospel of forbearance taught:
“School not thy brother, saying, ‘Thus thou ought,
So must believe, in awe of other men.’”
Nay, harken backward through the centuries,
And heed the voice of martyrs done to death!
Must hemlock numb the lips of Socrates?
Must zealous crucifixion hush the breath
Of Him who spoke the blessèd heresies
Of Christian faith, Jesus of Nazareth?