I BUILT a shrine, and set my idol there, And morn and noon and night my knees I bent, And cried aloud until my strength was spent, Beseeching his cold pity with my prayer. Sometimes at dawning, when the day was fair, A ray of light to his stern visage sent The semblance of a smile. Did he relent, This strong god, Love, whose high-priest is Despair? High noon came on, and in its full, clear light I saw his lips, as ruthless as of old; And his eyes mocked me like relentless fate, Till I was fain to hide me from his sight; Then one swept off from him his mantle's fold, And lo, my idol was not Love, but Hate. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRINGTIDE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MANHATTAN, 1609 by EDWIN MARKHAM GETTING A PURCHASE by KAREN SWENSON FROM THE GREATER TESTAMENT (XXII, XXIII, AND XXVI) by FRANCOIS VILLON GOING FOR WATER by ROBERT FROST WOMEN AND ROSES by ROBERT BROWNING |