Stephen Maria Crane

I Stood Upon a Highway

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. "