Classic Poem

The little lonely souls go by
Seeking their God who lives on high
With conscious step and hat and all
As if on Him they meant to call
In some sad ceremonial.

But I who am a pagan child,
Who know how dying Plato smiled,
And how Confucius lessoned kings,
And of the Buddha's wanderings
Find God in very usual things.

Mohammed and the Brahma led
Me past the gateway of the dead,
And even Astarte's temple dim
No less than Raphael's cherubim
Have somehow led me back to Him.

I would not take from them their faith
That somehow Jesus rose from death,
Yet strange for me the Crucified
Stands almost breathing by my side
Who do not think he ever died.