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There is no lord within my heart,Left silent as an empty shrineWhere rose and myrtle intertwine, Within a place apart.
No god is there of carven stoneTo watch with still approving eyesMy thoughts like steady incense2 rise； I dream and weep alone.
But if I keep my altar fair,Some morning I shall lift my headFrom roses deftly3 garlanded To find the god is there.
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