The New Religion

They shall not be forgotten, these my lays;
I know that they shall live when I am dead.
A thousand things I might have sung and said.
And no man hearkened to my blame or praise;
I might have moved the veil from off the face
Of awful Destiny; I might have spread
Rebellion through a land misused, and made
My song the weapon of an injured race,

And men forgotten all the same, — but now
I come among ye, and to each I cry,
"He that hath ears to hearken, let him hear,"
I sing of love, made manifest in her.
I preach the Gospel of her life, and so
I feel these words, though mine, not born to die!