George Sylvester Viereck

GREAT jewels glitter like a wizard’s rain

Of pearl and ruby in the women’s hair.

And all the men—each drags a golden chain,

As though he walked in freedom. In the glare,

Luxurious-cushioned, wheels a revel-train

Where kings of song with weary feet have trod,

Where Poe, sad priest to Beauty and to Pain,

Bore through the night the Vision and the God.

And yet, perhaps, in this assemblage vast,

In some poor heart sounds the enraptured chord,

And staggering homeward from a hopeless quest

The God-annointed touched me, meanly dressed

And, like a second Peter, I have passed

Without salute the vessel of the Lord.