It's a dark and narrow stairway to the room overhead, But I am not afraid to go. There is room for only one on each winding, narrow tread, But I can feel the way, I know. There are stirrings now and then in the room overhead, There are dear old feet upon the floor. They are setting forth my chair, they are making up my bed, They are waiting just inside the door. There are wide, wide views from the room overhead, And the heart of all home is there. I shall then begin to live, though men will call me dead, When I've mounted the narrow stair. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BROTHERHOOD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LET ME NOT LOSES MY DREAM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON VASHTI by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE DINNER-PARTY by AMY LOWELL VERY EARLY SPRING by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |