Authors:
  • The irrevocable Hand
    That opes the year's fair gate, doth ope and shut
    The portals of our earthly destinies;
    We walk through blindfold, and the noiseless doors
    Close after us, for ever.

    Pause, my soul,
    On these strange words - for ever - whose large sound
    Breaks flood-like, drowning all the petty noise
    Our human moans make on the shores of Time.
    O Thou that openest, and no man shuts;
    That shut'st, and no man opens - Thee we wait!

    "Poems" by Dinah Maria Murlock Craik, ("April"), 1859.