The Common Cult; Night Sentries
by George Sterling
Up to the House of Mammon, from dawn to sister dawn, Called by remembered voices the sons of men are drawn; By noon the dust goes skyward, by night the torches flare, On veining roads that mingle-- and you and I are there. Around the House of Mammon, like ruined cities' stones, The stubborn and the haughty have left their trampled bones. They were the few in number that would not enter in, Saying, "The god is evil." Saying, "To kneel is sin." The ebony House of Mammon goes up against the sky; The north wind and the south wind before its portals die. Its towers go near to Heaven; its vaults go nearer Hell, And all are fat with favor to some who serve them well. Before the House of Mammon stand you not overlong, But enter to the worship, unnoted in the throng; There it is ill to parley, to ask the why or when, For he whose line would prosper shall be as other men. Within the House of Mammon august the twilights are, Across whose gulf the portal gleams smaller than a star. The bucklers of the mighty in rust and ruin melt, Above those deep foundations where king and pontiff knelt. Within the House of Mammon low thunder of loud pray'rs Rolls from the burdened pavement and coiled, colossal stairs-- Petition and obeisance, when each makes known his need, Begging the flamens hearken, begging the largess speed. Within the House of Mammon his priesthood stands alert, By mysteries attended, by dusk and splendors girt, Knowing, for faiths departed, his own shall still endure, And they be found his chosen, untroubled, solemn, sure. Within the House of Mammon the golden altar lifts Where dragon-lamps are shrouded as costly incense drifts-- A dust of old ideals, now fragrant from the coals, To tell of hopes long ended, to tell the death of souls. Within the House of Mammon there is no need of song, And faced by them who doubt not, no doubt endures for long; Tho twilight hold the temple, there yet each one shall see The Word of Words, the letters that spell "Necessity." Beyond the House of Mammon there is no need to go, And other fanes are shadow, whose figments melt and flow. Grown weary of the service, no scoffer long derides, For past the veils and darkness, a very god abides.... Above the House of Mammon, the hours and ages tread, Nor find the ramparts shaken, nor see the sentries fled, Till o'er the massy columns, broken like those of Tyre, The long-awaited Morning go winged with crystal fire. Night Sentries Ever as sinks the day on sea or land, Called or uncalled, you take your kindred posts. At helm and lever, wheel and switch, you stand, On the world's wastes and melancholy coasts. Strength to the patient hand! To all, alert and faithful in the night, May there by Light! Now roars the wrenching train along the dark; How many watchers guard the barren way In signal-towers, at stammering keys, to mark The word the whispering horizons say! To all that see and hark -- To all, alert and faithful in the night, May there be Light! On ruthless streets, on byways sad with sin -- Half-hated by the blinded ones you guard -- Guard well, lest crime unheeded enter in! The dark is cruel and the vigil hard, The hours of guilt begin. To all, alert and faithful in the night, May there be Light! Now storms the pulsing hull adown the sea: Gaze onward, anxious eyes, to mist or star! Where foams the heaving highway blank and free? Where wait the reef, the berg, the cape, the bar? Whatever menace be, To all, alert and faithful in the night, May there be Light! Now the surf-rumble rides the midnight wind, And grave patrols are on ocean edge. Now soars the rocket where the billows grind, Discerned too late, on sunken shoal or ledge. To all that seek and find, To all, alert and faithful in the night, May there be Light! On lonely headlands gleam the lamps that warn, Star-steady, or ablink like dragon eyes. Govern your rays, or wake the giant horn Within the fog that welds the sea and skies! Far distant runs the morn: To all, alert and faithful in the night, May there be Light! Now glow the lesser lamps in rooms of pain, Where nurse and doctor watch the joyless breath, Drawn in a sigh, and sighing lost again. Who waits without the threshold, Life or Death? Reckon you loss or gain? To all, alert and faithful in the night, May there be Light! Honor to you that guard our welfare now! To you that constant in the past have stood! To all by whom the future shall avow Unconquerable fortitude and good! Upon the sleepless brow Of each, alert and faithful in the night, May there be Light!
