Since the wise men have not spoken, I speak that am only a fool;
A fool that hath loved his folly,
A fool that in all his days hath done never a prudent thing,
nor recked if another reaped the fruit of his mighty sowing,
A fool that shall laugh in his lonely heart as the ripe ears fall to the reaping-hooks
And the poor are filled that were empty,
Tho' he go hungry.
I have squandered the splendid years that the Lord God gave to my youth
In attempting impossible things, deeming them alone worth the toil.
For this I have heard in my heart, that a man shall scatter, not hoard,
Shall not bargain or huxter with God; or was it a jest of Christ's
And is this my sin before men, to have taken Him at His word?
O wise men, riddle me this: what if the dream come true?
And if millions unborn shall dwell in the house that I shaped in my heart,
The noble house of my thought?
Ye shall call for a miracle, taking Christ at His word.
And for this I will answer, O people, answer here and hereafter,
O people that I have loved, shall we not answer together?