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.”