The Gates of Time and Other Poems

by Frederick George Scott




This place is holy, Christ has been
    In it to-day;
The little girl behind this screen
    Has passed away.

Her soul has sought the boundless deep

    Beyond these skies.
Then fold her wasted hands to sleep,
    And close her eyes.

No more their glazing pupils see
    This crowded ward;


She walks now in eternity
    Beside her Lord.

Put back the dark hair from her brow,
    And smooth her cheek;
Those white lips would be praying now

    If they could speak.

Make straight each crippled limb again,
    And raise her head;
It once would make her cry with pain
    To touch her bed.


The winter shadows as they fall
    Begin to hide
The little texts upon the wall
    That were her pride.

But where she wanders far away

    The hills are bright;
She rests, our little waif and stray,
     With God to-night.