Explore "The Relic Taken, what Avails the Shrine?" by Robert Louis Stevenson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THE relic taken, what avails the shrine? / The locket, pictureless? O heart of mine, / Art thou not worse than that, / Still warm, a vacant nest where love once sat?
Her image nestled closer at my heart / Than cherished memories, healed every smart / And warmed it more than wine / Or the full summer sun in noon-day shine.
This was the little weather gleam that lit / The cloudy promontories-the real charm was / That gilded hills and woods / And walked beside me thro' the solitudes.
The sun is set. My heart is widowed now / Of that companion-thought. Alone I plough / The seas of life, and trace / A separate furrow far from her and grace.