I stood upon a highway, And, behold, there came Many strange peddlers. To me each one made gestures, Holding forth little images, saying, "This is my pattern of God. Now this is the God I prefer." But I said, "Hence! Leave me with mine own, And take you yours away; I can't buy of your patterns of God, The little gods you may rightly prefer." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LONESOME CHILD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD BUCOLIC COMEDY: SPRING by EDITH SITWELL |