Broken and shattered Lie on the stones The golden censers That once scattered Perfume and prayer; And unbeholden, Save of us only, The high gods lonely Mount their sad thrones. And I too, beneath my breath, Blaspheme and profane the place With mutterings lewd of death -- But your illumined face, Strained by the weeping of sacrifice, And lit by the candles of paradise, Gleams like a silver cup To those sad ones offered up; And as long you yield them that visible cry The dying gods cannot wholly die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EAGLE AND THE MOLE by ELINOR WYLIE IN JUNIOR YEAR by WILLIAM GRANT BARNEY WIND IN THE WILLOWS by VERNE TAYLOR BENEDICT THE ABANDONED by MATHILDE BLIND HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 18 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |