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Without Are Dogs





If, through some wondrous miracle of grace,
To the Celestial City I might win,
And find upon the golden pavement place,
The gates of pearl within;

In some sweet pausing of the immortal song
To which the choiring Seraphim give birth,
Should I not for that humbler greeting long
Known in the dumb companionships of earth?

Friends whom the softest whistle of my call
Brought to my side in love that knew no doubt,
Would I not seek to cross the jasper wall
If haply I might find you there "without"?





Next: You're A Dog

Previous: My Dog



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