From morn to midnight, all day through,
   I laugh and play as others do,
   I sin and chatter, just the same
   As others with a different name.
   And all year long upon the stage
   I dance and tumble and do rage
   So vehemently, I scarcely see
   The inner and eternal me.
   I have a temple I do not
  Visit, a heart I have forgot,
  A self that I have never met,
  A secret shrine -- and yet, and yet

  This sanctuary of my soul
  Unwitting I keep white and whole,
  Unlatched and lit, if Thou should'st care
  To enter or to tarry there.

  With parted lips and outstretched hands
  And listening ears Thy servant stands,
  Call Thou early, call Thou late,
  To Thy great service dedicate.

Added: Jun 1 2005 | Viewed: 564 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Charles Sorley
Poem: Expectans Expectavi

Year: Published/Written in 1915
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