The Heart of a Woman and Other Poems/Gethsemane
GETHSEMANE
Into the garden of sorrow,Some day we all must roam,If not to-day, then to-morrow,Bow 'neath its purple dome,Out from the musk-laden banqueting halls,Doffing our mirth-spangled vestments like thralls,Softly we wend to Gethsemane,In the hour that sorrow calls!