• “I wrought me a lyric of fire and fear,
    And called on the world to heed —
    Till strong men blenched at my haggard face
    And shuddered, but would not read.

    So I stole me the gold of the mines of Joy
    And fashioned a conscious lie —
    And they gave me the wreath of the kings of Song
    And prayed that I might not die!

    (For the lie that I wrought was as old as the world
    And dear as the vision of Heaven —
    Of the crimson lure of a maiden's lips
    And the myth of a sin forgiven!)

    But my heart was sick, and my soul grew less,
    With the light of my failing days,
    Because I had lied to my Knowledge-God
    For the pottage of human praise.

    O I clung to the rim of the cliffs of Hell
    And called on an empty Name —
    Till there dropped the tears of a weeping Truth
    And saved my soul from the flame.

    So I hid my soul in a maiden's hair,
    And climbed to a clearer view —
    And I found I had lied to a lying God,
    And the myth I had sung - was true!”