The Gates of Horn are dull of hue
(If all our wise men tell us true).
No songs, they say, nor perfumed air
Shall greet the wistful pilgrim there,
No leaves are green, no skies are blue.
Yet he who will may find a clue
(Mid shadows steeped in opal dew)
To seek, and see them passing fair,
The Gates of Horn.
The man that goes not wreathed with rue,
Right lovely shapes his smile shall sue,
With red rose-garlands in their hair
And garments gay with gold and vair,
Full fain to meet him trooping through
The Gates of Horn.
Graham R. Tomson.
IF LOVE BE TRUE.
If love be true-not bought at mart-
Though night and darkness hide from view,
What harshest of harsh things can part
The loved-one from the lover's heart,
Or stay the dreams that flit thereto?
If love be true dreams need no chart
To gain the goal to which they're due;
For love will guide them with love's dart,
If love be true.
If love be true, if thou be true,
Sweet love, as fair thou surely art,
Night shall not hide your eyes of blue
From my heart's eyes the long night through;
Though in sweet sadness tears may start,
If love be true.
Samuel Waddington.