Women must weep :: :: University of Virginia Library

O thou who art somewhere strong and free,
Though the stars against thee fight,
Who dost bend a disobedient knee
To the Rimmon of the night—
Who yet lovest right,
That appears to flee,
And within thy heart abhorrest blight
Of the brutal unforgiving might,
And hast hunger for the Living Tree,
With its healing flowers and fruit of light;
O thou Unknown God, whom I cannot see,
I uplift a brother's hands to thee.

Though thy garb is sullied, and thy brow,
With the shadow of the Fall,
Is no longer bright and beauteous now,
And the curse is over all;
Though the deadly pall,
To which blossoms bow,

Hath made of thy outward life a thrall,
And the music answers not thy call,
And the evils wax we guess not how,
And enclose thee round like coffin-wall,
Yet thy soul hath framed a secret vow,
And my friend, the Unknown God, art thou.

Though the lie is often on thy lip,
And the arm upraised to beat,
And the muddy foot may backward slip
To the old unhallowed seat;
Though thy drink and meat
Be the poison'd sip,
And the passions which the furnace heat,
With a black hell-fire thy bosom eat,
Yet a deeper sense defies their grip,
And would lead thee to a calm retreat;
Though the needle wildly swerve and dip,
Yet the Unknown God is on the ship.

If thy form to something dark be grown,
And thy pastime grope in lust,
And the angel-wings that fanned have flown,
They are never far from trust;
If disfiguring dust
Be about thee blown,
And the killing vice and cankering rust,
Which the hidden springs of hope encrust,
Have their sullen seal upon thee thrown,
Yet arise and yet escape thou must;
For the conquering Truth shall have its own,
And the Unknown God some day be known.