The Shrine | labelledamesansmerci's Blog
THERE is no lord within my heart, Left silent as an empty shrine Where rose and myrtle intertwine, Within a place apart.
No god is there of carven stone To watch with still approving eyes My thoughts like steady incense rise; I dream and weep alone.
But if I keep my altar fair, Some morning I shall lift my head From roses deftly garlanded To find the god is there.
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