Chrysanthemums in bloom—as gaunt as ever;
peonies, leaves falling off, seem completely withered.
A locust, frozen nearly to death,
clings desperately to a cold branch.
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Though with gods the world is cumbered,
Gods unnamed, and gods unnumbered,
Never god was known to be
Who had not his devotee.
So I dedicate to mine,
Here in verse, my temple-shrine.