Chapter_34

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The Maker of the stars and worlds

Sat underneath the market cross,

And the old men were walking, walking,

And little boys played pitch and toss.

“The props,” said He, “of stars and worlds

Are prayers of patient men and good.”

The boys, the women, and old men,

Listening, upon their shadows stood.

A grey professor passing cried,

“How few the mind’s intemperance rule!

What shallow thoughts about deep things!

The world grows old and plays the fool.”

The mayor came, leaning his deaf ear⁠—

There was some talking of the poor⁠—

And to himself cried, “Communist!”

And hurried to the guard-house door.

The bishop came with open book,

Whispering along the sunny path;

There was some talking of man’s god,

His god of stupor and of wrath.

The bishop murmured, “Atheist!

How sinfully the wicked scoff!”

And sent the old men on their way,

And drove the boys and women off.

The place was empty now of people.

A cock came by upon his toes;

An old horse looked across a fence,

And rubbed along the rail his nose.

The Maker of the stars and worlds

To His own house did him betake,

And on that city dropped a tear,

And now that city is a lake.