THE smoke upon your altar dies,
The flowers decay.
The Goddess of your sacrifice
Has flown away.
What profit then to sing or slay
The sacrifice from day to day ?
"We know the shrine is void," they said,
"The Goddess flown -
"Yet wreaths are on the altar laid
- "The Altar-Stone "
Is black with fumes of sacrifice,
"Albeit She has fled our eyes.
"For, it may be, if still we sing "
And tend the shrine,
"Some deity on wandering wing
"May there incline;
"And finding all in order meet,
"Stay while we worship at her feet. "