Steps of earth’s greatest, mightiest, between those pillars gray,

And prints of little feet, that mark the dust away.

And some approach the threshold whose looks are blank with fear,

And some whose temples brighten with joy are drawing near,

As if they saw dear faces, and caught the gracious eye

Of Him, the Sinless Teacher, who came for us to die.

I mark the joy, the terrors; yet these, within my heart,

Can neither wake the dread nor the longing to depart;

And, in the sunshine streaming of quiet wood and lea,

I stand and calmly wait until the hinges turn for me.