William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. (1878–1962). Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1920.
The Gate
T
The fields are scorching in the sun;
My wife has ever a bitter word
To greet me when the day is done.
But half their words are high and shrill.
My son is over-young to help;
The fields are very hard to till.
The poet’s words come back to me:
“In the moon there is a white jade gate
Shadowed cool by a cassia tree.”