  Two gates—and one was morning’s, gold with gleams Of sudden sunlight, and clear skies above Ways where the air is musical with love, And summer singing in a land of streams: One sad with twilight and low sound that seems Like the marred song-voice of a broken heart, Where life and love sit evermore apart, And look back longing to the gate of dreams. Time was, I wandered in those sunlit lands, And felt the glamour in my wakening eyes; But now with sword aflame the angel stands, Pointing the threshold of the gate of gloom; While through the monotone of human cries, Upsoars this pitiless, “fulfil thy doom!” |
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