I stood upon a highway, <br />And, behold, there came <br />Many strange peddlers. <br />To me each one made gestures, <br />Holding forth little images, saying, <br />"This is my pattern of God. <br />Now this is the God I prefer." <br /> <br />But I said, "Hence! <br />Leave me with mine own, <br />And take you yours away; <br />I can't buy of your patterns of God, <br />The little gods you may rightly prefer."<br /><br />Stephen Crane<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-stood-upon-a-highway-2/
