OPENING that we cannot find, Groping our way amid dark walls! There's light out yonder where the wind Singeth in thy chinks like one who calls. Well hid art thou, O Door! Locked and barred, and curtained o'er. A little postern through which men Can slip away, unheard, unseen. Thy bolts are drawn and closed again, And dark as they have ever been. The walls of time close round and round, Unpiercèd still by light or sound! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LA NOCHE TRISTE by ROBERT FROST ARMOR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DEAD LEAVES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON FAITH by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE GHOST OF DEACON BROWN by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON NEBUCHADNEZZAR: OR EATING GRASS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SWEET CLOVER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS NORTH WIND TO DUTIFUL BEAST MIDWAY BETWEEN DIAL & FOOT OF GARDEN CLOCK by MARIANNE MOORE |