The Lost Soul

by John Vance Cheney

John Vance Cheney

A lone soul came to Heaven's hard gate,

Low at the warder's feet she fell;

Sobbing, she said she had not knocked so late

But for the many roads to Hell.

Stroking her bowed, unmothered head,

Up spoke the good old warder gray:

"This child, too fair, high up let her be led,

Past them that never lost the way."

Last updated January 14, 2019