Go to the western gate, Luke Havergal,-
There where the vines cling crimson on the wall,-
And in the twilight wait for what will come.
The wind will moan, the leaves will whisper some-
Whisper of her, and strike you as they fall;
But go, and if you trust her she will call.
Go to the western gate, Luke Havergal-
Luke Havergal.
No, there is not a dawn in eastern skies
To rift the fiery night that's in your eyes;
But there, where western glooms are gathering,
The dark will end the dark, if anything:
God slays Himself with every leaf that flies,
And hell is more than half of paradise.
No, there is not a dawn in eastern skies-
In eastern skies.
Out of a grave I come to tell you this,-
Out of a grave I come to quench the kiss
That flames upon your forehead with a glow
That blinds you to the way that you must go.
Yes, there is yet one way to where she is,-
Bitter, but one that faith can never miss.
Out of a grave I come to tell you this-
To tell you this.
There is the western gate, Luke Havergal,
There are the crimson leaves upon the wall.
Go,-for the winds are tearing them away,-
Nor think to riddle the dead words they say,
Nor any more to feel them as they fall;
But go! and if you trust her she will call.
There is the western gate, Luke Havergal-
Luke Havergal.
Luke Havergal
Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Poem topics: I miss you, away, faith, feel, god, kiss, never, night, wind, wait, paradise, bitter, dark, trust, wall, whisper, crimson, dawn, grave, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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