Upon the altar of my life there lies <br />A costly offering: its price I know; <br />The worth that it might have, its power and beauty; <br />Yet it lies there, and darkness covers it. <br />It has not burned towards heaven in holy flames, <br />Worshipping God, warming and lighting man; <br />No fire has quickened it.—Love, like a torch <br />Quenched in foul mist, passed over it in vain: <br />A flickering ray of pale uncertain happiness <br />Played round it once, too weak to kindle it. <br />Strike, strike then now, ye lightning fires of sorrow! <br />Devouring flames! ye that have all consumed <br />Love, Hope, and Happiness, do your whole work! <br />Light up the gifts that lie on my life's altar, <br />Kindle the precious sacrifice my soul <br />Has heaped in vain: so shall it burn towards heaven, <br />And glorify the Giver of all gifts, <br />The Sender of all earthly destinies.<br /><br />Frances Anne Kemble<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-48/
