There is a supreme God in the ethnological section; <br />A hollow toad shape, faced with a blank shield. <br />He needs his belly to include the Pantheon, <br />Which is inserted through a hole behind. <br />At the navel, at the points formally stressed, at the organs of sense, <br />Lice glue themselves, dolls, local deities, <br />His smooth wood creeps with all the creeds of the world. <br /> <br />Attending there let us absorb the cultures of nations <br />And dissolve into our judgement all their codes. <br />Then, being clogged with a natural hesitation <br />(People are continually asking one the way out), <br />Let us stand here and admit that we have no road. <br />Being everything, let us admit that is to be something, <br />Or give ourselves the benefit of the doubt; <br />Let us offer our pinch of dust all to this God, <br />And grant his reign over the entire building.<br /><br />William Empson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/homage-to-the-british-museum/
