Page:Myrtle and Myrrh.djvu/26



If I should worship at thine ancient shrine,

Where thy good sons, incensed by love of war,

Now clamor, as their fathers did of yore—

If I should sacrifice what is not mine,

Nor any living god's, nor even thine—

If for the sake of honor I must pour

This cup of life upon thy barren shore,

How will it fare then with my love divine?

No! let thy sons go forth to burn and slay:

Let them for love of thee and glory smear

And tear the love of all that's pure and dear;

Let them this loveless love in rage display;

I can not join them; no, I can not cheer

As they beneath my window pass to-day.

What care I for the tears the maudlin crowd

Sheds o'er my bier—for praise of Church and State—

For glory that remains within the gate

Of worldly things—for men's esteem avowed—

For freedom that is not with love endowed—

For fame that lingers oft and comes too late,

When these the sorrow of my love create

And haunt her with the shadow of my shroud?

How cowardly, self-centered have I grown—

How dead to true and noble feelings all?

Why not, when they the human soul enthrall—

Why not, when they the beast in man enthrone?

I cling to love, and with love I will fall,

Unwept, unsung, unhonored and unknown.