[There is no God, as I was taught in youth...]

There is no God, as I was taught in youth,Though each, according to his stature, buildsSome covered shrine for what he thinks the truth,Which day by day his reddest heart-blood gilds.There is no God; but death, the clasping sea,In which we move like fish, deep over deepMade of men's souls that bodies have set free,Floods to a Justice though it seems asleep.There is no God, but still, behind the veil,The hurt thing works, out of its agony.Still; like a touching of a brimming Grail,Return the pennies given to passers by.There is no God, but we, who breathe the air,Are God ourselves and touch God everywhere.