 | Ochil Idylls and Other Poems |  |
108
AT THE GATE.
The temple of eternal song!
Its tops are in the sky,
Its vast foundations, massy, strong,
Deep in Olympus lie.
Its tops are in the sky,
Its vast foundations, massy, strong,
Deep in Olympus lie.
Its gates are open all life long,
Its doors swing to and fro;
And in and out in endless throng
The singers come and go.
Its doors swing to and fro;
And in and out in endless throng
The singers come and go.
They come in solemn ceaseless tide,
They sing their hymns, and go;
And all life long the gates are wide,
The doors swing to and fro.
They sing their hymns, and go;
And all life long the gates are wide,
The doors swing to and fro.
Comes one with voice of volumed power
And strong o'ermastering strain;
The temple to its topmost tower
Rings, and resounds again.
And strong o'ermastering strain;
The temple to its topmost tower
Rings, and resounds again.
109
Comes one with tremulous voice and weak,
Tears in his fading tone;
The silence throbs, and seems to speak,
His pathos made its own.
Tears in his fading tone;
The silence throbs, and seems to speak,
His pathos made its own.
They come with various gift of song,
They leave their gift, and go;
The gates stand open all life long,
The doors swing to and fro.
They leave their gift, and go;
The gates stand open all life long,
The doors swing to and fro.
Comes yet a third of changeful mood,
Now meek, now passioning high;
He pipes thro' pastoral solitude,
He shrills thro' battle-cry.
Now meek, now passioning high;
He pipes thro' pastoral solitude,
He shrills thro' battle-cry.
The temple echoes all day long;
I hear the various din,
Yet, doubtful of my gift of song,
I fear to enter in.
I hear the various din,
Yet, doubtful of my gift of song,
I fear to enter in.
Alas for him that offering brings,
And enters not, tho' near;
Who ne'er himself in service sings,
Nor stands with those that hear!
And enters not, tho' near;
Who ne'er himself in service sings,
Nor stands with those that hear!
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