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Poetry Archives

A continuing selection of classic and contemporary poems.

The Shrine

Sara Teasdale

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.
Online text © 1998-2008 Poetry X. All rights reserved.
From Helen of Troy And Other Poems | 1911
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