DEDICATED TO SIR ARTHUR PEARSON
I know a Temple filled with light,
And whoso enters there--
Feels suddenly that life is bright,
Whatever his despair.
A lustre from an unseen height
Makes all the darkness fair.
Within this Temple rings the sound
Of labour linked to mirth:
For here is where lost dreams are found
To beautify the earth.
And here is where crushed hopes rebound
To glorious new birth.
This Temple of the Prayerful Mind
Has room for every creed:
And here each reverent soul may find
A solace for his need.
It is the Garden of the Blind,
Grown up from Love's pure seed.
Such radiance fills every face
Within these ample walls--
I know God moves about the place.
And animates those halls.
From worlds magnificent in Space
I know His splendour falls.
Oh ye who have not mortal sight,
Teach me to see, I pray!
Teach me to vivify the night,
So it may shine like day.
And in God's opulence of light
To go upon my way.
Poems of affection. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
London: Gay & Hancock, 1920.
|Back to Poem Index|