| THE door of Heaven is on the latch | |
| To-night, and many a one is fain | |
| To go home for one's night's watch | |
| With his love again. | |
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| Oh, where the father and mother sit | 5 |
| There's a drift of dead leaves at the door | |
| Like pitter-patter of little feet | |
| That come no more. | |
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| Their thoughts are in the night and cold, | |
| Their tears are heavier than the clay, | 10 |
| But who is this at the threshold | |
| So young and gay? | |
| |
| They are come from the land o' the young, | |
| They have forgotten how to weep; | |
| Words of comfort on the tongue, | 15 |
| And a kiss to keep. | |
| |
| They sit down and they stay awhile, | |
| Kisses and comfort none shall lack; | |
| At morn they steal forth with a smile | |
| And a long look back. | 20 |