IN the solemn days of old, <br />Two men met in Boston town, <br />One a tradesman frank and bold, <br />One a preacher of renown. <br />Cried the last, in bitter tone: <br />'Poisoner of the wells of truth! <br />Satan's hireling, thou hast sown <br />With his tares the heart of youth!' <br />Spake the simple tradesman then, <br />'God be judge 'twixt thee and me; <br />All thou knowed of truth hath been <br />Once a lie to men like thee. <br />'Falsehoods which we spurn to-day <br />Were the truths of long ago; <br />Let the dead boughs fall away, <br />Fresher shall the living grow. <br />'God is good and God is light, <br />In this faith I rest secure; <br />Evil can but serve the right, <br />Over all shall love endure. <br />'Of your spectral puppet play <br />I have traced the cunning wires; <br />Come what will, I needs must say, <br />God is true, and ye are liars.' <br />When the thought of man is free, <br />Error fears its lightest tones; <br />So the priest cried, 'Sadducee!' <br />And the people took up stones. <br />In the ancient burying-ground, <br />Side by side the twain now lie; <br />One with humble grassy mound, <br />One with marbles pale and high, <br />But the Lord hath blest the seed <br />Which that tradesman scattered then, <br />And the preacher's spectral creed <br />Chills no more the blood of men. <br />Let us trust, to one is known <br />Perfect love which casts out fear, <br />While the other's joys atone <br />For the wrong he suffered here.<br /><br />John Greenleaf Whittier<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/calef-in-boston-1692/
