Like a young child who to his mother's door Runs eager for the welcoming embrace, And finds the door shut, and with troubled face Calls and through sobbing calls, and o'er and o'er Calling, storms at the panel -- so before A door that will not open, sick and numb, I listen for a word that will not come, And know, at last, I may not enter more. Silence! And through the silence and the dark By that closed door, the distant sob of tears Beats on my spirit, as on fairy shores The spectral sea; and through the sobbing -- hark! Down the fair-chambered corridor of years, The quiet shutting, one by one, of doors. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A MISTRESS DYING by WILLIAM DAVENANT ROBIN REDBREAST by GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE THE BALLAD OF PROSE AND RHYME by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON SYMPATHY (2) by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR TO JOHN DONNE (2) by BEN JONSON TO THE DANDELION by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL |