[There is no God, as I was taught in youth...]
John Masefield, Poems (New York, NY: Macmillan, 1945): 367.
1There is no God, as I was taught in youth,
2Though each, according to his stature, builds
3Some covered shrine for what he thinks the truth,
4Which day by day his reddest heart-blood gilds.
5There is no God; but death, the clasping sea,
6In which we move like fish, deep over deep
7Made of men's souls that bodies have set free,
8Floods to a Justice though it seems asleep.
9There is no God, but still, behind the veil,
10The hurt thing works, out of its agony.
11Still; like a touching of a brimming Grail,
12Return the pennies given to passers by.
13There is no God, but we, who breathe the air,
14Are God ourselves and touch God everywhere.
Publication Start Year:
Sonnets (New York, NY: Macmillan, 1916).
RPO poem Editors:
Ian Lancashire, assisted by Ana Berdinskikh