Classic Poem

Two brothers in a far and lonely land
Built up two uncouth altars out of stone,
And on them laid their labor's offering
To that High Power who bids men sweat and toil.

One brother lifted high his slender hands
And bent his dainty knee upon the earth;
For he had bleating flocks that multiplied
Even as he watched them, lying in the shade,
Fingering his whittled reeds that thrilled in song
And dreaming all the summer-tide away.
What need had he to soil those tender palms
With touch of earth? His flocks were fat and sleek,
And ever upward, ever thicker, rolled
The smoke from off the altar he had made.
" One frightened lambling from its mother torn
Would not be missed among so many sheep
And yet its flesh would feed an altar-flame
As well as any " — so he knelt and prayed.

The older brother likewise lifted up
His hands beside the altar he had built.
Gnarled were his fingers as the roots of trees
On some high cliff that clutch the desperate slope,
Fearing to slip within the gulf below.
Bare was his body, and the knotted cords
Stood out upon his clumsy-muscled knees,
That were too stiff for bending; so he stooped
Half crouching in the weary droop of toil,
With dumb defiance glooming in his eyes,

And lips that scarce could lisp his Maker's name.
The smoke that smoldered round his offering
Sagged earthward, stifling, when he tried to pray.
No fleecy lamb lay on his altar-fire,
Blazing in crackling savor up to Heaven;
A few scant roots, a withered bunch of leaves,
Wet still where he had grasped them sweaty-palmed
And one green melon that his vines had borne
To all his painful tending, choked the flame
That whitening crept among them — so he prayed.

And, since in that lone country far away
One brother rose and, swift in anger, slew,
Upon his brow his Maker set a sign
That men should know the deed that he had done.
But what the sign He set, no man has known
From that blood-sprinkled day of shame to this;
Though still two altars rise in every State
And still two brothers bring their offering.

Arise, O Abel, kiss that Brother's brow
Before, too late, it bear the brand of Cain.