Not all my treasure hath the bandit Time
Locked in his glimmering caverns of the Past:
Fair women dead and friendships of old rhyme,
And noble dreams that had to end at last: -
Ah! these indeed; and from youth's sacristy
Full many a holy relic hath he torn,
Vessels of mystic faith God filled for me,
Holding them up to Him in life's young morn.
All these are mine no more - Time hath them all,
Time and his adamantine gaoler Death:
Despoilure vast - yet seemeth it but small,
When unto thee I turn, thy bloom and breath
Filling with light and incense the last shrine,
Innermost, inaccessible, - yea, thine.
All The Way
Richard Le Gallienne
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Poem topics: breath, death, faith, god, life, light, noble, women, young, small, treasure, holy, rhyme, thine, youth, bloom, time, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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