A Pilgrim

written by


« Reload image

ACROSS the trodden continent of years
  To shrines of long ago,
My heart, a hooded pilgrim, turns with tears--
  For could I know
That in the temple of thy constancy
There still may burn a taper lit for me,
  'Twould be a star in starless heaven, to show
That Heaven could be.

Bent with the weight of all that I desired
  And all that I forswore,
My heart roams, mendicant, forlorn and tired,
  From door to door,
Begging of every stern-faced memory
An alms of pity--just to come to thee,
  No more thy knight, thy champion no more--
Only thy devotee!

© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay