Though my heart is bleeding and torn.
And my chisel is lying ruined,
For my dearest hope is gone,
Since I see on my towering altar
But a lifeless idol of stone.
Advertisement
Still I bow in homage lowly,
And beg and entreat in vain
For a loving word or pitying glance
To reward my tedious pain.
Ah! poor are earthly idols,
And paltry is human art, -
Not the noblest hand that ever toiled
Could fashion a woman's heart!
So I tore from the lofty column
My idol fashioned with hands,
Want to keep up with breaking news?
Subscribe to our email newsletter.
Read more in News
National Episcopal University.Recommended Articles
-
CORRESPONDENCE.TO THE EDITORS OF THE CRIMSON:- I HAVE read with great pleasure the article by Mr. Crowninshield, and your remarks
-
ACADEMIC HONORS CONFERREDThe annual meeting for the award of distinctions, held last evening in Sanders Theatre, was a great success, largely due
-
IMAGE-MAKINGProteus. Was this the idol that you worship so? Valentine. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint? Proteus.
-
'Poonsters Dood ItThe 'Poon, Harvard's funny magazine is getting funnier and funnier, for its cartoon of the month showed the Ibis, 'Poonsters'
-
Chesterfield Program, Come to Offer Crimson Songs TonightTen thousand men of Harvard will receive a musical salute from the Chesterfield Supper Club at 7 o'clock tonight over
