Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: NAAMAN Domes of Damascus, daring minarets, Above what olden memories you rise! There is a brooding Presence in your skies— A winged god or an angel—who forgets Not anything of yesterday but lets Time pierce him with a scythe; through great wide eyes Of sorrow he beholds the past that vies With this brief moment, while the Pharpar frets Lost stones of beauty. O Damascus! Domes And minarets are not your ancient pride: Yours the achievement of one mighty man Who found his soul and saved it. Not the homes Of kings could tempt him from the path he tried— Steepest of paths since quest of truth began. NAAMAN I will not in the hateful House of Rimmon Bow any more the head or bend the knee. Here are but idols. Tombs are these tapered shrines— Tombs of dead lies that long deceived the people. I will go forth to God beneath the sky, Meet Him upon the mountains where the dawn Wears saffron for an ephod—is the priest Whose turban still the morning star adorns. Have done with drone of penitential psalms, With altars wet and slippery from blood! Have done with fearful and uplifted eyes, With hands of supplication clasped in prayer! Snuff out these wicks that intercede for souls Released by death and singing in the sun! Does God care for the blood of bulls and goats, Who feeds the cattle on a thousand hills? Come! get the benediction of the day Whose hands are dropping honey with the dew, And let the loud hosanna of the wind Make me forget the hateful House of Rimmon. I have been too long beggared by half truths. Cramped in brocaded garb of compromise, I, Naaman, Commander of the host, Benhadad's friend, Damascus' greatest son, Am but a beggar!—Nay, hear all my word: Count not my ropes of pearl, my jacinth jars, My topaz, diamonds and c... --This text refers to the Paperback edition.