In the green gloom of cryptomaria trees, The little shrine stands lonely and forlorn, Above a flight of mossy steps, more worn By Time than by the feet of votaries. And there among their mouldering mysteries Forsaken gods, of all their splendors shorn, Stare through the dimness in despairing scorn With pilgrim sandals piled about their knees. Beneath those bitter eyes, I chill with dread. Where are they now whose sandals strew this place? Were they consumed as sacrifices here? Or did they, when their breathless prayers were said Before the glaring god's relentless face, Hurry away on silent feet of fear? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A HYMN [TO THE NAME AND] IN HONOR OF SAINT TERESA by RICHARD CRASHAW LIBERTY FOR ALL by WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON SONNET: 12 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE BISHOP HATTO [AND THE RATS] by ROBERT SOUTHEY SONNET UPON HISTORIE OF GEORGE CASTRIOT, ALIAS SCANDERBERG by EDMUND SPENSER LET US HAVE PEACE by NANCY BYRD TURNER THE MAYFLOWERS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |