MY fates had destined me to rove A long, long pilgrimage of love; And many an altar on my way Has lured my pious steps to stay; For, if the saint was young and fair, I turn'd and sung my vespers there. This, from a youthful pilgrim's fire, Is what your pretty saints require: To pass, nor tell a single bead, With them would be @3profane indeed!@1 But trust me, all this young devotion Was but to keep my zeal in motion; And, every @3humbler altar@1 past, I now have reach'd THE SHRINE at last! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MAN'S REQUIREMENTS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING NO LONGER COULD I DOUBT HIM TRUE by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR TO MY FIANCEE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE FROGS: HYMN OF THE INITIATES by ARISTOPHANES PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 4. AL-MALIK by EDWIN ARNOLD POLYHYMNIA: FRAGMENTS by WILLIAM BASSE BEYOND RECALL by MARY EMILY NEELEY BRADLEY |