Page:Poems, Volume 1, Coates, 1916.djvu/200

178 And though I strove the more,

Still through some viewless door

She ever passed before.

Heart-wearied and forespent,

With body earthward bent,

I ceased from the ascent;

Then, when hope seemed too late,

Despairing,—at Death's gate

I heard a voice say: "Wait!"