LXI
How oft, when young, my brothers I would shun
If their religious feelings were not spun
Of my own cobweb, which I find was but
A spider's revelation of the sun.
LXII
Now, mosques and churches—even a Kaaba Stone,
Korans and Bibles—even a martyr's bone,—
All these and more my heart can tolerate,
For my religion's love, and love alone.
63
