Excerpt from The Grave: A Poem
V the Door of Death is made of Gold, That Mortal Eyes cannot behold; But, when the Mortal Eyes are clos' d, And cold and pale the Limbs repos'd, The Soul awakes; and, wond' ring, sees In her mild Hand the Golden Keys: VT he Grave is Heaven's gol... den Gate, And rich and poor around it wait; 0 Shepherdess of England's Fold, Behold this Gate of Pearl and Gold.
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