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AT THE GATE.
Never on an earthly bed
Was so dainty drapery spread,
Spangled bright with buds and bees,
Broidered with anemones;—
Hear me, Angel, I implore:
        Open the door!

Once I longed for Wealth and Place,
Happiness, and Love's sweet grace,—
Now there lives within my breast
Only this one wish,—for Rest,—
Only Rest,—I ask no more:
        Open the door!