Before the Altar, bowed, he stands <br />With empty hands; <br />Upon it perfumed offerings burn <br />Wreathing with smoke the sacrificial urn. <br />Not one of all these has he given, <br />No flame of his has leapt to Heaven <br />Firesouled, vermilion-hearted, <br />Forked, and darted, <br />Consuming what a few spare pence <br />Have cheaply bought, to fling from hence <br />In idly-asked petition. <br /> <br />His sole condition <br />Love and poverty. <br />And while the moon <br />Swings slow across the sky, <br />Athwart a waving pine tree, <br />And soon <br />Tips all the needles there <br />With silver sparkles, bitterly <br />He gazes, while his soul <br />Grows hard with thinking of the poorness of his dole. <br /> <br />"Shining and distant Goddess, hear my prayer <br />Where you swim in the high air! <br />With charity look down on me, <br />Under this tree, <br />Tending the gifts I have not brought, <br />The rare and goodly things <br />I have not sought. <br />Instead, take from me all my life! <br /> <br />"Upon the wings <br />Of shimmering moonbeams <br />I pack my poet's dreams <br />For you. <br />My wearying strife, <br />My courage, my loss, <br />Into the night I toss <br />For you. <br />Golden Divinity, <br />Deign to look down on me <br />Who so unworthily <br />Offers to you: <br />All life has known, <br />Seeds withered unsown, <br />Hopes turning quick to fears, <br />Laughter which dies in tears. <br />The shredded remnant of a man <br />Is all the span <br />And compass of my offering to you. <br /> <br />"Empty and silent, I <br />Kneel before your pure, calm majesty. <br />On this stone, in this urn <br />I pour my heart and watch it burn, <br />Myself the sacrifice; but be <br />Still unmoved: Divinity.” <br /> <br />From the altar, bathed in moonlight, <br />The smoke rose straight in the quiet night.<br /><br />Amy Lowell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/before-the-altar/
