William Makepeace Thackeray
1811-1863.
At the Church Gate. From “Pendennis.”
A
lthough I enter not,
Yet round about the spot
Ofttimes I hover:
And near the sacred gate,
With longing eyes I wait,
Expectant of her.
The Minster bell tolls out
Above the city’s rout,
And noise and humming:
They ’ve hushed the Minster bell:
The organ ’gins to swell:
She ’s coming, she ’s coming!
My lady comes at last,
Timid, and stepping fast,
And hastening hither,
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
Meekly and duly;
I will not enter there,
To sully your pure prayer
With thoughts unruly.
But suffer me to pace
Round the forbidden place,
Lingering a minute;
Like outcast spirits who wait
And see through heaven’s gate
Angels within it.