Tradition

By Edgar Daniel Kramer

We boast that we are free, but we are slaves
Within the shackles of a tyrant rule ;
We stumble helplessly into our graves,
As little children gaping at a fool.

We love and laugh, yet tremble at a dream,
And follow in the narrow, beaten track,
And him, whose eyes have dared to glimpse the gleam,
We break beneath the cross upon his back;

And him we crown with thorns and crucify,
And give him galled vinegar to drink,
Then, rearing him against the dying sky,
We stand and jeer, because he dared to think.

We boast that we are free, and yet we go
Unquestioning in ways the years have trod,
And all our little wisdom blinds us so
That we mistake our glory for our god.

(1935)