The Book of the Native

by Charles G.D. Roberts




To Beauty and to Truth I heaped
    My sacrificial fires.
I fed them hot with selfish thoughts
    And many proud desires.

I stripped my days of dear delights

    To cast them in the flame,
Till life seemed naked as a rock,
    And pleasure but a name.

And still I sorrowed patiently,
    And waited day and night,

Expecting Truth from very far
    And Beauty from her height.

Then laughter ran among the stars;
    And this I heard them tell:
"Beside his threshold is the shrine

    Where Truth and Beauty dwell!"