A fire-mist and a planet, <br />A crystal and a cell, <br />A jelly-fish and a saurian, <br />And caves where the cave-men dwell; <br />Then a sense of law and beauty <br />And a face turned from the clod - <br />Some call it Evolution, <br />And others call it God. <br /> <br />A haze on the far horizon, <br />The infinite, tender sky, <br />The ripe rich tint of the cornfileds, <br />And the wild geese sailing high - <br />And all over upland and lowland <br />The charm of the golden-rod - <br />Some of us call it Autumn <br />And others call it God. <br /> <br />Like tides on a crescent sea-beach, <br />When the moon is new and thin, <br />Into our hearts high yearnings <br />Come welling and surging in - <br />Come from the mystic ocean, <br />Whose rim no foot has trod, - <br />Some of us call it Longing, <br />And others call it God. <br /> <br />A picket frozen on duty, <br />A mother starved for her brood, <br />Socrates drinking the hemlock, <br />And Jesus on the rood; <br />And millions who, humble and nameless, <br />The straight, hard pathway plod, - <br />Some call it Consecration, <br />And others call it God.<br /><br />William Herbert Carruth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/each-in-his-own-tongue/
