| Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948). The Little Book of Modern Verse. 1917. |
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| 131. The Outer Gate |
| | | By Nora May French |
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| LIFE said: “My house is thine with all its store; | |
| Behold I open shining ways to thee— | |
| Of every inner portal make thee free: | |
| O child, I may not bar the outer door. | |
| Go from me if thou wilt, to come no more; | 5 |
| But all thy pain is mine, thy flesh of me; | |
| And must I bear thee, faint and woefully, | |
| Call on me from the darkness and implore?” | |
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| Nay, mother, for I follow at thy will. | |
| But oftentimes thy voice is sharp to hear, | 10 |
| Thy trailing fragrance heavy on the breath; | |
| Always the outer hall is very still, | |
| And on my face a pleasant wind and clear | |
| Blows straitly from the narrow gate of Death. | |
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