Zeus

Grady McMurtry

8 February 1942

Tell me, Pan, you of the Wilderness

That space wherein all men must dwell

If they would know thy secrets

Tell me, who is this Christ

This upstart godling?

And Pan answered, slowly, grimly sad

A fool, your Grace, oh mighty Zeus

An embassy of Typhon

Tho he may know it not.

He lives his own lies.

Then what can he mean to us, old goat?

Again Pan answered, wearily

Two thousand years and more, Lord,

Of famine, pestilence,

Death for my children.

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