Classic Poem

A poet with a painted face
And fair gold curls and cruel grace
Broke through the heavens' opal rim
Pelted with flowers the cherubim
On the seven gateways smote and cried
And broke towards the Crucified
Then its Voice womanish and wild
Cried out " Lo, Man! Clay's common child
Thou that wert God, what art thou now? "

The insulted reared his bloodstained brow
And said " Even so: thou sayest true
I was a man. But what are you? "