I stood before a leg in the museum,

A marble leg, a mutilated leg,

Supported by a rod of polished bronze.

This leg of some hermaphroditic god

Was carved in Greece, when ancient Greece was young.

In deepest reverence I stood and gazed

Upon this relic of an absent god.

And as I stood I wondered if perchance

Idolatry is not this very act,

That thus enshrines an ancient piece of stone,

Whilst living sculptors are compelled to waste

In fruitless idleness that precious power

Which carves the Victories of Samothrace.

Idolators, ye worship graven stones

But are indifferent to the gods that carve them.