AmyLowell:BeforetheAltar

With empty hands;

Upon it perfumed offerings burn

Wreathing with smoke the sacrificial urn.

Not one of all these has he given,

No flame of his has leapt to Heaven

Firesouled, vermilion-hearted,

Forked, and darted,

Consuming what a few spare pence

Have cheaply bought, to fling from hence

In idly-asked petition.

His sole condition

Love and poverty.

And while the moon

Swings slow across the sky,

Athwart a waving pine tree,

And soon

Tips all the needles there

With silver sparkles, bitterly

He gazes, while his soul

Grows hard with thinking of the poorness of his dole.

Shining and distant Goddess, hear my prayer

Where you swim in the high air!

With charity look down on me,

Under this tree,

Tending the gifts I have not brought,

The rare and goodly things

I have not sought.

Instead, take from me all my life!

Upon the wings

Of shimmering moonbeams

I pack my poets dreams

For you.

My wearying strife,

My courage, my loss,

Into the night I toss

For you.

Golden Divinity,

Deign to look down on me

Who so unworthily

Offers to you:

All life has known,

Seeds withered unsown,

Hopes turning quick to fears,

Laughter which dies in tears.

The shredded remnant of a man

Is all the span

And compass of my offering to you.

Empty and silent, I

Kneel before your pure, calm majesty.

On this stone, in this urn

I pour my heart and watch it burn,

Myself the sacrifice; but be

Still unmoved: Divinity.

From the altar, bathed in moonlight,

The smoke rose straight in the quiet night.