Explore "The Shrine" by Gilbert Parker on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Were I but as the master souls who move / In their high place, immortal on the earth, / My song might be a thing to crown her worth, -- / 'Tis but a pathway for the feet of Love.
But since she walks where I am fain to sing, / Since she has said, "I listen, O my friend!"
There is a glory lent the song I send, / And I am proud, yes, prouder than a king.
I grow to nobler use beneath her eyes -- / Eyes that smile on me so serenely, will / They smile a welcome though my best hope dies,
And greet me at the summit of the hill?
Will she, for whom my heart has built a shrine, / Take from me all that makes this world divine?