'Each in his own Tongue' by WH Carruth

[altariel]

The Wondering Minstrels is a poetry-by-email service that kindly sends out poetry and commentary on a (roughly) daily basis. Sometimes I like them, sometimes I don't. Anyway, I thought I'd add the ones that I like to my journal so that I don't lose track of them.



'Each in his own Tongue'

A fire-mist and a planet,
A crystal and a cell,
A jelly-fish and a saurian,
And caves where the cave-men dwell;
Then a sense of law and beauty
And a face turned from the clod, --
Some call it Evolution,
And others call it God.

A haze on the far horizon,
The infinite, tender sky,
The ripe, rich tint of the cornfields,
And the wild geese sailing high;
And all over upland and lowland
The charm of the golden-rod, --
Some of us call it Autumn,
And others call it God.

Like tides on a crescent sea-beach,
When the moon is new and thin,
Into our hearts high yearnings
Come welling and surging in:
Come from the mystic ocean,
Whose rim no foot has trod, --
Some of us call it Longing,
And others call it God.

A picket frozen on duty,
A mother starved for her brood,
Socrates drinking the hemlock,
And Jesus on the rood;
And millions who, humble and nameless,
The straight, hard pathway plod, --
Some call it Consecration,
And others call it God.

-- William Herbert Carruth
(1859-1924)