Poem by Sara Teasdale

The Sanctuary

  If I could keep my innermost Me
  Fearless, aloof and free
  Of the least breath of love or hate,
  And not disconsolate
  At the sick load of sorrow laid on men;
  If I could keep a sanctuary there
  Free even of prayer,
  If I could do this, then,
  With quiet candor as I grew more wise
  I could look even at God with grave forgiving eyes.

1. Snowfall
2. Dust
3. Chance
4. Summer Storm
5. In the End

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