Go to the western gate, Luke Havergal
Luke Havergal.

No, there is not a dawn in eastern skies
To rift the fiery night that 's in your eyes;
But there, where western glooms are gather-
ing,

The dark will end the dark, if anything: God slays Himself with every leaf that flies,

And hell is more than half of paradise.
No, there is not a dawn in eastern skies
In eastern skies.

Out of a grave I come to tell you this,
Out of a grave I come to quench the kiss
That flames upon your forehead with a
glow

That blinds you to the way that you must go.

Yes, there is yet one way to where she is, -
Bitter, but one that faith can never miss.
Out of a grave I come to tell you this
To tell you this.

There is the western gate, Luke Havergal,
There are the crimson leaves upon the wall.
Go, for the winds are tearing them

-

could hear wild voices scream

See the rocking masts reel by us through

the spray.

In the gale we drove and drifted helplessly,

With our rudder gone, our engine-fires

drowned,

"Now, God speed you, though the shout should be our last,

Through the channel where the maddened breakers comb,

Through the wild sea's hill and hollow,
On the path we cannot follow,

To your women and your children and your home."

Oh! remember it, good brothers. We two people speak one tongue,

And your native land was mother to our land;

But the head, perhaps, is hasty when the nation's heart is young,

And we prate of things we do not understand.

But the day when we stood face to face with death,

(Upon whose face few men may look and tell),

As long as you could hear, or we had breath,

Four hundred voices cheered you out of hell!

By the will of that stern chorus,
By the motherland which bore us,
Judge if we do not love each other well.

A PORTRAIT

A MAN more kindly, in his careless way, Than many who profess a higher creed; Whose fickle love might change from day to day,

And yet be faithful to a friend in need;

Whose manners covered, through life's outs and ins,

Like charity, a multitude of sins.

A man of honor, too, as such things go; Discreet and secret - qualities of use Selfish, but not self-conscious, generous, slow

To anger, but most ready in excuse.