It had to be destroyed; that much I own.
Its veneration had become diseased.
It had obscured the sun by which it shone.
So it was broken, and the Lord was pleased.
But was it wrong to miss it, all the same?
For it was, in itself, a worthy thing.
If only we had called it by the name
Bestowed upon it by the Jewish king,
It might have stayed, untainted by our hearts,
A creature made by God, and thus made well.
And so, when Hezekiah cleft its parts,
And to the ground its shattered fragments fell,
I ran outside, and fell upon the grass,
And wept to Heaven for a piece of brass.