Kenneth Rand

I wrought me a lyric of fire and fear,And called on the world to heed __ill strong men blenched at my haggard faceAnd shuddered, but would not read.So I stole me the gold of the mines of JoyAnd fashioned a conscious lie __nd they gave me the wreath of the kings of SongAnd prayed that I might not die!(For the lie that I wrought was as old as the worldAnd dear as the vision of Heaven __f the crimson lure of a maiden's lipsAnd the myth of a sin forgiven!)But my heart was sick, and my soul grew less, With the light of my failing days,Because I had lied to my Knowledge-GodFor the pottage of human praise.O I clung to the rim of the cliffs of HellAnd called on an empty Name __ill there dropped the tears of a weeping TruthAnd saved my soul from the flame.So I hid my soul in a maiden's hair,And climbed to a clearer view __nd I found I had lied to a lying God,And the myth I had sung - was true!