Poetry Archives

When young I was an Atheist,
         Yea, pompous as a pigeon
No opportunity I missed
         To satirize religion.
I sneered at Scripture, scoffed at Faith,
         I blasphemed at believers:
Said I: “There’s nothing after Death,—
         Your priests are just deceivers.”

In middle age I was not so
         Contemptuous and caustic.
Thought I: “There’s much I do not know:
         I’d better be agnostic.
The hope of immortality
         ’Tis foolish to be flouting.”
So in the end I came to be
         A doubter of my doubting.

Now I am old, with steps inclined
         To hesitate and falter;
I find I get such peace of mind
         Just sitting by an altar.
So Friends, don’t scorn the family pew,
         The preachments of the kirks:
Religion may be false or true,
         But by the Lord!—it works.