ALONE, with hardened eyes which shed no tears, Accursed of men and wounded sore by fate, I turned through Memory's secret wicket gate In search of solace for my fiendish fears. It seemed I walked among my prayerless years Marshaled like cypress trees, each tree sedate, Yet blighted at the heart by sin or hate, And having not the beauty which endears. Then pressing far I found a hidden shrine, Whereat my youthful footsteps once had trod; So crumbled was it I could scarce divine Faint letters I had carved above the sod, But peering close I read, "Lord, I am Thine," And lo! my lips burst forth in praise to God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES by ROBERT BURNS THE DEAD HEROES by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE ONE WHITE ROSE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A HOP AT SARATOGA by LEVI BISHOP OCTOBER by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THE BONNIE LASS OF ALBANY by ROBERT BURNS WAR NOTES: 2. PRO PATRIA MORI by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON CAVERNS; WRITTEN OF COLOSSAL CAVE, KENTUCKY by MADISON JULIUS CAWEIN |