This is a series of meditative poems for the four seasons of the year THE FOUR GATES Four are the gates To the splendors immortal, Which the slow Hours swing Open, and close. Tis Heaven that waits Just past the portal Of Summer and Spring Of Autumn and Snows.
This is a series of meditative poems for the four seasons of the year THE FOUR GATES Four are the gates To the splendors immortal, Which the slow Hours swing Open, and close. Tis Heaven that waits Just past the portal Of Summer and Spring Of Autumn and Snows.