Explore "The Shrine" by Sara Teasdale on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
There is no lord within my heart, / Left silent as an empty shrine / Where rose and myrtle intertwine, / Within a place apart.
No god is there of carven stone / To watch with still approving eyes / My thoughts like steady incense rise; / I dream and weep alone.
But if I keep my altar fair, / Some morning I shall lift my head / From roses deftly garlanded / To find the god is there.