Sara Teasdale

(August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933 / Missouri / United States)

The Shrine - Poem by 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.


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Read poems about / on: rose, dream, alone, god, heart



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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