It stands alone and somberly
Within a shaded place,
And every man who turns that way
Has quiet on his face.
And every man must rise and leave
His pleasant homely door
To vanish through this silent gate
And enter in no more—
Yet—once—I saw its opening throw
A brighter light about
And glimpsed strange glory on the brow
Of someone passing out!
I wonder if Outside may be
One fair and great demesne
Where both gates open, careless of
The Town that lies between?
On the Mountain
THE top of the world and an empty morning,
Mist sweeping in from the dim Outside,
The door of day just a little bit open—
The wind’s great laugh as he flings it wide!
O wind, here’s one who would travel with you
To the far bourne you alone may know—
There would I seek what some one is hiding,
There would I find where my longings go!
To some deep calm would I drift and nestle
Close to the heart of the Great Surprise.
O strong wind, do you laugh to see us?
We are so little and oh, so wise!
The Prophet
HE trod upon the heights; the rarer air
Which common people seek, yet cannot bear,
Fed his high soul and kindled in his eye
The fire of one who cries “I prophesy!”