We read of kings and gods that kindly took A pitcher filled with water from the brook, But I have daily tendered without thanks Rivers of tears that overflow their banks; A slaughtered bull will appease angry Jove, A horse the Sun, a lamb the god of love, But she disdains the spotless sacrifice Of a pure heart that at her altar lies. Vesta is not displeased if her chaste urn Do with repaired fuel ever burn, But my saint frowns, though to her honoured name, I consecrate a never-dying flame. The Assyrian king did none i' the furnace throw But those that to his image did now bow, -- With bended knees I daily worship her, Yet she consumes her own idolater. Of such a goddess no times leave record, That burned the temple where she was adored. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MIDSUMMER NIGHT by SARA TEASDALE ON WORDSWORTH by DAVID HARTLEY COLERIDGE MENAPHON: SEPHESTIA'S [CRADLE] SONG TO HER CHILD by ROBERT GREENE THE GREENWOOD SHRIFT; GEORGE III AND A DYING WOMAN IN WINDSOR FOREST by ROBERT SOUTHEY SONNET: BARBERRIES by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |