Armed

Give me to-night to hide me in the shade,         That neither moon nor star     May see the secret place where I am laid,         Nor watch me from afar.     Let not the dark its prying ghosts employ         To peer on my retreat,     And see the fragments of my broken toy         Lie scattered at my feet.     I fashioned it, that idol of my own,         Of metal strange and bright;     I made my toy a god - I raised a throne         To honour my delight.     This haunted byway of the grove was lit         With lamps my hand had trimmed,     Before the altar in the midst of it         I kept their flame undimmed.     My steps turned ever to the hidden shrine;         Aware or unaware,     My soul dwelt only in that spot divine,         And now a wreck lies there.     Give me to-night to weep - when dawn is spread         Beyond the heavy trees,     And in the east the day is heralded         By cloud-wrought companies,     I shall have gathered up my heart's desire,         Broken, destroyed, adored,     And from its splinters, in a deathless fire,         I shall have forged a sword.