The book of the dead :: :: University of Virginia Library

Boker, George H. (1823-1890)

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If all the liars under heaven
Could in one conclave congregate,—
To every tongue were charter given
To hiss at thee its baneful hate;—

Were reason baffled by the din,
And truth made blind, and justice dumb,
Till every shape and shade of sin
Were piled upon thy guiltless tomb;—

Should men, deluded by the cry,
Become thy enemies from choice,
Believe and circulate the lie,
Defended by the general voice;—

Till none, heroically run mad,
Dared lift a secret breath with me;—
For man, the thing would make me sad;
It would not shake my faith in thee.