Waltham High School - Mirror Yearbook (Waltham, MA)

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THE MIRROR, 1938 CHARLES W. GOODRICH, Headmaster

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Waltham Senior High School

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Z i THE GATE RUTH MooRE Along the road of life I strolled One day when all was fair, And far ahead I saw a gate Tall and stately there. And, as I neared the portal strong, I saw a lock of gold. The bars were silver, fair and fine, But strength was there untold. Now, as I looked upon this gate, Upon my ear came loud The tattoo of the horses' hoofsg Tlze dust stirred in a cloud. A coach of beauty neared the place, The coach of wealth and glare, The occupant, Sir Richman, Announced by trumpets' blare. And as the fine-clad gentleman Alighted from within, He swaggered to the lovely gate, His entrance sought to win. But as this greedy man of wealth just touched the lock of gold, It turned to lead, the bars to steel, The gems to iron cold. I-Ie struggled with the stubborn lock, And then it moved at last. The gate swung out just wide enough To let the man crowd past. But! What was this? He could not see! The fog was thick and chill. The path was rocky, deep with mud, The trees were bare and still. He faltered, stumbled blindly on, Through mists of sin and greed, Great cliffs of cold and crumbling rock His journey did impede. But as in fog and barren waste His Hgure once was lost. I thought, this man's great earthly gains, How much they really cost. When fill at last should be serene And the way should gleam with light Instead of fog and rocky cliffs How sad this rich man's plight. Then, as I pondered on the thought, A step upon the road Brought to my sight an aged man. Upon his back a load That could be labeled Worldly Cares. But something as he neared Called on me then to look at him. 'Neath shaggy brown appeared A pair of soft, blue, kindly eyes. Good eyes! They had not seen defeat. Although the road was rough and long He had not faltering feet. As then he touched the nearby gate, A wonder to behold! His load had vanished in the air, He did not seem so old. And as the gate swung open wide, His face he lifted high. His wrinkled hands reached forward As he breathed a welcome sigh. Beyond the gate a garden fair Stretched out along the way. A place of beauty unsurpassed Unseen for many a day. The grass lay green upon the lea, The trees were leaved and cool. For this man, lo, an Eden there He found beside the pool - Such contrasts find we in this life: Some go the way alone, Blinded to the better things That make life good, and moan Because at last their happiness Of lasting peace is gone. They never see the beauties Of the trees, the birds, the dawn. For them there is but fog ahead. just rocks and fog, and mire, Because upon this earth they have A greedy, vain desire. The poor, old man with worldly cares Had found his Eden - Why? Because of little kindnesses He did as he passed by. To fellowmen along the way I-Ie gave the best he could. Kindness, acts of service, And a soul of simple good.