to Departmental Ditties

The smoke upon your altar dies, 
    The flowers decay. 
The Goddess of your sacrifice 
    Has flown away. 
What profit then to sing or slay 
The sacrifice from day to day ?  

"We know the shrine is void," they said, 
    "The Goddess flown - 
"Yet wreaths are on the altar laid - 
    "The Altar-Stone 
"Is black with fumes of sacrifice, 
"Albeit She has fled our eyes.  

"For, it may be, if still we sing 
    "And tend the shrine, 
"Some deity on wandering wing 
    "May there incline; 
"And finding all in order meet, 
"Stay while we worship at her feet. "   

(End of Departmental Ditties)

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