Love's Trappist by G.K. Chesterton — Read

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There is a place where lute and lyre are broken.

Where scrolls are torn and on a wild wind go, / Where tablets stand wiped naked for a token, / Where laurels wither and the daisies grow.

Lo: I too join the brotherhood of silence, / I am Love's Trappist and you ask in vain, / For man through Love's gate, even as through Death's gate, / Goeth alone and comes not back again.

Yet here I pause, look back across the threshold.

Cry to my brethren, though the world be old, / Prophets and sages, questioners and doubters, / O world, old world, the best hath ne'er been told!

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