At the Three Fountains

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Here, where God lives among the trees,
  Where birds and monks the whole day sing
His praises in a pleasant ease,

O heart, might we not find a home
  Here, after all our wandering?
These gates are closed, even on Rome.

Souls of the twilight wander here ;
  Here, in the garden of that death
Which was for love's sake, need we fear

How sharp with bitter joy might be
  Love's lingering, last, longed-for breath,
Shut in upon eternity?

© Ogden Nash