Beloved, this the heart I offer thee
Is purified from old idolatry,
From outworn hopes, and from the lingering stain
Of passion's dregs, by penitential pain.
Take thou it, then, and fill it up for me
With thine unstinted love, and it shall be
An earthy chalice that is made divine
By its red draught of sacramental wine.
More verses by Lucy Maud Montgomery
- The Poet's Thought
- Which Has More Patience -- Man Or Woman?
- The Old Man's Grave
- In Lovers' Lane