For works with similar titles, see The Closed Gate.
THE CLOSED GATE.CONTRIBUTED TO "GREAT THOUGHTS."
BROAD the terrace is and stately,
Arched with trees on either side,
Beauteous elms that wave sedately
In their summer leaves of pride:
But the entrance gate is closed
As if death in life reposed.
Arched with trees on either side,
Beauteous elms that wave sedately
In their summer leaves of pride:
But the entrance gate is closed
As if death in life reposed.
I can see a garden lying
In the distance dim and fair,
I can hear the breezes sighing
Melancholy music there.
In the distance dim and fair,
I can hear the breezes sighing
Melancholy music there.
Old worn griffins, stony-hearted,
With a grin sit on the gate,
Evil forms of the departed—
Cold and grim and desolate.
With a grin sit on the gate,
Evil forms of the departed—
Cold and grim and desolate.
And they guard, as if for ever
Those unlifted hinges old,
Staring sentinels that never
Will their mystery unfold.
Those unlifted hinges old,
Staring sentinels that never
Will their mystery unfold.
There are statues in the shadows,
In gray grandeur standing lone,
Gazing mutely o'er green meadows
Where bright buttercups are blown.
In gray grandeur standing lone,
Gazing mutely o'er green meadows
Where bright buttercups are blown.
And through peering long and surely,
Marble fountains I can see,
Where white crystal waters purely
Move in mystic melody.
Marble fountains I can see,
Where white crystal waters purely
Move in mystic melody.
Who lives there beyond the gables
Of that house so calm and still?
Folks do speak in old wives' fables
Of that house below the hill.
Of that house so calm and still?
Folks do speak in old wives' fables
Of that house below the hill.
And they say a poor mad lady
Paces idly on the walk,
In and out the grottoes shady
With a strange fantastic talk.
Paces idly on the walk,
In and out the grottoes shady
With a strange fantastic talk.
And her hair is downward streaming,
Unconfined by net or pin,
Floating with the wondrous gleaming
Of the gold that lies within.
Unconfined by net or pin,
Floating with the wondrous gleaming
Of the gold that lies within.
And her eyes have all the sorrow
Of a poor dumb creature's pain,
For to her no kind to-morrow
Brings her reason back again.
Of a poor dumb creature's pain,
For to her no kind to-morrow
Brings her reason back again.
I have lingered in the gloaming
But I never heard a sound,
Save those poor tired feet a-roaming
Lonely o'er the garden ground.
But I never heard a sound,
Save those poor tired feet a-roaming
Lonely o'er the garden ground.
All unearthly seems the stillness
Brooding over every thing,
Like a place where heavy sickness
Hangs a dark and sable wing!
Brooding over every thing,
Like a place where heavy sickness
Hangs a dark and sable wing!
Fascination leads me thither,
For a spell about is cast
Round me as I wander hither
Haunted by a shadowy past.
For a spell about is cast
Round me as I wander hither
Haunted by a shadowy past.
But I light not on the lady
Stricken sorely unto death,
In that garden still and shady,
Standing with suspended breath.
Stricken sorely unto death,
In that garden still and shady,
Standing with suspended breath.
"Never see her? 'Tis a story,
And a myth," I hear you say.
Not so, friends; that house so hoary
Holds the truth of what I say:
Where the entrance gate is closed
As if Death in Life reposed!
And a myth," I hear you say.
Not so, friends; that house so hoary
Holds the truth of what I say:
Where the entrance gate is closed
As if Death in Life reposed!