Explore "The Least Possible" by Edith Nesbit on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
DEAR goddess of the shining shrine / Where all my votive tapers burn, / Where every gold-embroidered thought / And all my flowers of life are brought / -- With many, alas! that are not mine -- / What will you give me in return?
The bow in Bond Street -- in the Park / The smile all worship on your lips, / The courteous word at dinner -- dance -- / But never a blush -- a conscious glance; / At most, at Henley, in the dark, / Your fleet mistaken finger-tips?
Ah, just for once, once only, be / An altar-server -- stoop and set me / Upon the altar richly wrought / Of your most secret flower-sweet thought: / One nightlight's flicker burn for me / Before you sleep and quite forget me.