Explore "Gethsemane" by Georgia Douglas Johnson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Into the garden of sorrow, / Some day we all must roam, / If not to-day, then to-morrow, / Bow 'neath its purple dome, / Out from the musk-laden banqueting halls, / Doffing our mirth-spangled vestments like thralls, / Softly we wend to Gethsemane, / In the hour that sorrow calls!