Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/217

198 Sweet Content, at Death's black gates, Called, “Wilt thou take me in?” “Enter into the home of peace, Close my gates on good and sin. Shut on the poor man's rags my door, Shut on the rich man's coach-and-four. Nothing had man when life gave him breath. Nothing he takes past the gates of death Of the world's unequal paying. Save only the joys he fought self to resign. Only the sorrows, he did not repine. The sins that he stooped for, or passed, and Divine Is the justice that judges the weighing. What better reward for a tired life spent, Than thee for his bride, Content?”