BY weary paths and wide Up many a torn hillside, Through all the raging strife And the wandering of life, Here on the mountain's brow I find, I know not how, My long-neglected shrine Still holy, still mine. The wall, with leaves o'ergrown, Is ruined but not o'erthrown; Surely the door hath been Guarded by one unseen; Surely the prayer last prayed And the dream last dreamed have stayed. I will enter, and try once more To dream and pray as of yore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SOMEBODY'S DARLING by MARIE LA CONTE ON LOOKING INTO GOLDING'S OVID by STEVE SCAFIDI JR. THE SWING by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE WAITER AND THE ALLIGATOR by G. W. A. TO MADEMOISELLE by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER LOVE IN THE GUISE OF FRIENDSHIP by ROBERT BURNS |