What of the dim old legends,
What of the story and song
That put this planet to slumber
Ere it grew to be mighty and strong?
Far back in the misty ages
It heard them in its sleep,
And it smiled, as smiles an infant
When its hand has something to keep.
It played with the toys of childhood,
And found such playing sweet,
And then when it grew to be older
It flung them down at its feet.
It grew into youth and manhood
When higher needs had to be,
And fashioned for prayer and worship
The gods and the creeds we see.
And slowly growing upward
It flung those creeds away,
And hurled from column and temple
The gods of marble and clay.
Then it saw with clearer vision
The forces of things that move,
And built high fanes to a worship
Of a wider and deeper love.
It moves with the roll of the ages,
It has faith in what is unseen,
It gathers the long procession
Of the years and what they mean.
But does it ever look backward
In this march of the mighty mind,
To see the wreck of its playthings
It has left so far behind?