 | Joaquin Miller's Poems |  |
XXVIII
I would forget that scene, that place,I would forget that pleading face,
Yet hide it deepest in my heart,
As coffin in the heart of earth—
Alas! a heart so little worth—
Locked iron doors and somber lid!
Yea, I would have my shrine so hid,
So sacred and so set apart,
That only I might enter in,
Each sleepless, penitential night,
And, kneeling, burn my lorn love light
To burn away my bitter sin.
| Joaquin Miller's Poems | |