Текст оригинала на английском языке
Each in His Own Tongue
A FIRE-MIST and a planet, A crystal and a cell, A jelly-fish and a saurian, And caves where the cave-men dwell; Then a sense of law and beauty And a face turned from the clod -- Some call it Evolution, And others call it God. A haze on the far horizon, The infinite, tender sky, The ripe rich tint of the cornfileds, And the wild geese sailing high -- And all over upland and lowland The charm of the golden-rod -- Some of us call it Autumn And others call it God. Like tides on a crescent sea-beach, When the moon is new and thin, Into our hearts high yearnings Come welling and surging in -- Come from the mystic ocean, Whose rim no foot has trod, -- Some of us call it Longing, And others call it God. A picket frozen on duty, A mother starved for her brood, Socrates drinking the hemlock, And Jesus on the rood; And millions who, humble and nameless, The straight, hard pathway plod, -- Some call it Consecration, And others call it God.
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