Explore "The Gods are not Gone, but Man is Blind" by Edwina Stanton Babcock on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Over the hills the gods come walking, / Where the black pines draw their swords, / And the spell-bound leaves cease talking, / For the High-Priest sun comes stalking / And 'tis no time for words.
And oh! the gifts the gods are bringing -- / Stretches of happy heath, / Jewels with souls, and flowers singing; / Smiling stars, and new hope springing / With the wingèd hope called Death!
Over the hills the pipes are playing, / And the gods come strong and fair. / Alas! they know not of the straying, / The faithlessness and bitter saying: / "We know no gods, nor care...."
Over the hills -- the day-sky kindles / On a blackened world of clods; / Dead and dry are the flaxless spindles, / The cruse is drained, -- the fire dwindles... / No worshipers for the gods!