A Reed by the River/At the Gate
AT THE GATE
Nay: on thy lip a warning finger place And stay thine eager steps. One moment waitOn hither side; one moment turn thy face (Before thou shalt pass in and close the gate)Back to the path by trembling Doubt made Sweet. When yonder latch is lifted to thy hand,The farthest limit prest by thy glad feet, And in the temple of thy dreams they stand,Thou'lt long for what uncertainty made dear, And know that Pain, not Joy, hath made thee wise.Above each gate flames Duty's sword; 'tis here The radiance of thy one white moment lies.Then linger to enshrine it; stay thy feet,And live this hour by trembling Doubt made sweet!