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.
The Shrine
Sara Teasdale
(1)
Poem topics: alone, dream, heart, rose, head, rise, place, morning, silent, watch, stone, god, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about The Shrine poem by Sara Teasdale
Best Poems of Sara Teasdale