THE ORATORY.

THE ORATORY
522.5

Still in the vaulted temple of my heart
There is an oratory thine alone—
A sweet, hushed, sacred chantry all thine own,

There do I fly when I would be apart
To dream and dream, for there I know thou art

Albeit I see thee not. There is thy throne;
There art thou crowned, and as at altar-stone

Fain would I kneel and let the day depart.
While this remains I cannot lose thee, dear,

Though countless centuries between us roll—
Though earth dissolves, and planets disappear,

And all the splendor of the starry scroll
Dies out of Heaven, what room is there for fear?

Love still shall answer love, soul call to soul!

—Julia C. R. Dorr