As naked as the hanging Christ,
As shameless as the sun in heaven.

These whimperers--have they spared to us
One dripping woe, one reeking sin?
These thieves that shatter their own graves
To prove the soul is dead within.

They talk; by God, is it not time
Some of Love's chosen broke the girth,
And told the good all men have known
Since the first morning of the earth?




THE BALLAD OF GOD-MAKERS

A bird flew out at the break of day
From the nest where it had curled,
And ere the eve the bird had set
Fear on the kings of the world.

The first tree it lit upon
Was green with leaves unshed;
The second tree it lit upon
Was red with apples red;

The third tree it lit upon
Was barren and was brown,