The Sanctuary

By Sara Teasdale

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.