| Fuess and Stearns, comps. The Little Book of Society Verse. 1922. | | | | At the Church Gate | | By William Makepeace Thackeray |
| | | ALTHOUGH I enter not, | |
| Yet round about the spot | |
| Ofttimes I hover: | |
| And near the sacred gate | |
| With longing eyes I wait | 5 |
| Expectant of her. | |
| |
| The Minster bells ring out | |
| Above the city’s rout, | |
| And noise and humming: | |
| They’ve hushed the Minster bell; | 10 |
| The organ ’gins to swell: | |
| She’s coming, she’s coming! | |
| |
| My lady comes at last, | |
| Timid, and stepping fast, | |
| And hastening hither, | 15 |
| With modest eyes downcast: | |
| She comes—she’s here—she’s past— | |
| May Heaven go with her! | |
| |
| Kneel, undisturbed, fair Saint! | |
| Pour out your praise or plaint | 20 |
| Meekly and duly; | |
| I will not enter there, | |
| To sully your poor prayer | |
| With thoughts unruly. | |
| |
| But suffer me to pace | 25 |
| Round the forbidden place, | |
| Lingering a minute | |
| Like outcast spirits who wait | |
| And see through heaven’s gate | |
| Angels within it. | 30 | | | |
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