Poems — Love's Trappist

LOVE'S TRAPPIST

There is a place where lute and lyre are broken.

Where scrolls are torn and on a wild wind go, Where tablets stand wiped naked for a token, Where laurels wither and the daisies grow.

Lo: I too join the brotherhood of silence, I am Love's Trappist and you ask in vain, For man through Love's gate, even as through Death's gate, Goeth alone and comes not back again.

Yet here I pause, look back across the threshold.

Cry to my brethren, though the world be old, Prophets and sages, questioners and doubters, O world, old world, the best hath ne'er been told!