To A Bigot

Here am I sent a wanderer like to thee,

And here a moment ere the night I stand.

The twin eternities—Has Been, Shall Be—

            Gird me on either hand.

My joy or grief—the flicker of a wing

Of some brief insect in the blinding glow!

One moment down the wind my voice shall ring.

            This, and no more, I know.

My soul went out amid the ways of men,

By land and sea, and to the stars o’erhead.

I deemed it lost when it came back again.

            “Is there a God?” I said.

“Thou fool,” it answered, “all are truly kin.

God is the Soul of all—no power apart.

God is the spark Divine that glows within

            The Temple of the Heart.”