Page:Songs of the Soul (1923).djvu/30

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SONGS OF THE SOUL
A whisper by the brookOn grassy altar small—There I have my nook:—A crumbling temple shrine,A little place unseen,Unwatched, unhedged,Is where I humbly rest and lean:A sacred heartTear washed and trueDoth draw me with its rue.I take no bribeOf strength or wealthOf caste or church or scribe,Of fame or faith or festive breath,But wail for truth; And e’er the broken distant heartDoth draw Me e’en to heathen lands,And My help in silence I impart.

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