The Temple of Friendship
IN the depths of the silent wood the temple of Friendship stood,
Like a dream of snow-white stone, or a vestal all alone,
Undraped beside a stream.
The pious from every clime came there to rest for a time,
With incense and gifts and prayer; and the stainless marble stair
Was worn by fervent knees.
And everywhere the fame of the beautiful temple came,
With its altar white and pure, and its worship to allure
From gods that bring unrest.
The goddess was there to assuage (for this was the Golden Age)
The trials of all who staid and trustingly tried and prayed
For the perfect grace.
Soldier and clerk and dame in couples and companies came;
There were few who rode alone, for none feared the other one,
So placid and safe the creed.
There came from afar one day, with a suite in rich array,
A lady of beauty rare, who bent to the plaintive air
A handsome minstrel sung.
Her face was as calm and cold as the stamp of a queen on gold,
And the song the poet sung to a restful theme was strung,
A tranquil air of peace.
But, as they happily rode to the holy and white abode,
They were watched from a cloud above by the mischievous god of Love,
Who envied Friendship's reign.
They dreamt not of danger near, and their hearts felt no shade of fear,
As they laid their rich offerings of flowers and precious things
At Friendship's lovely feet.
They lingered long near the shrine, in the air of its peace divine;
By the shadowed stream they strayed, where often the heavenly maid
Would smile upon their rest.
One day, with her white robe flown, she passed like a dream alone,
Where they sat in a converse sweet, with the silver stream at their feet
As still and as wise as they.
To the innermost temple's room, to the couch, and the sacred loom
Where she weaves her placid will, the goddess came, smiling still,
Unrobing for blissful rest.
O lily of perfect mold, the world had grown young, not old,
Had it bowed at thy milk-white feet with a love not of fire, but heat,—
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poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
Added by Poetry Lover
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