ALONE, with hardened eyes which shed no tears, Accursed of men and wounded sore by fate, I turned through Memory's secret wicket gate In search of solace for my fiendish fears. It seemed I walked among my prayerless years Marshaled like cypress trees, each tree sedate, Yet blighted at the heart by sin or hate, And having not the beauty which endears. Then pressing far I found a hidden shrine, Whereat my youthful footsteps once had trod; So crumbled was it I could scarce divine Faint letters I had carved above the sod, But peering close I read, "Lord, I am Thine," And lo! my lips burst forth in praise to God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWO POEMS FROM THE WAR: 2 by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH THE AWAKENING by EDGAR LEE MASTERS WILLOW POEM by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE BELLS OF SHANDON by FRANCIS SYLVESTER MAHONY A PRESENCE by KENNETH SLADE ALLING THE FIRST SNOW by J. B. BENTON |