A traveler once, when skies were rose and gold With Syrian sunset, paused beside the fold Where an Arabian shepherd housed his flock; Only a circling wall of rough, grey rock— No door, no gate, but just an opening wide Enough for snowy, huddling sheep to come inside. "So," questioned he, "then no wild beasts you dread?" "Ah, yes, the wolf is near," the shepherd said. "But"—strange and sweet the words Divine of yore Fell on his startled ear: "@3I am the door!@1 When skies are sown with stars, and I may trace The velvet shadows in this narrow space, I lay me down. No silly sheep may go Without the fold but I, the shepherd, know. Nor need my cherished flock close-sheltered, warm, Fear ravening wolf, save o'er my prostrate form."O word of Christ—illumined evermore For us his timid sheep—"I am the @3door!@1" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CARGO MOVING TO GAZA (1988) by MARVIN BELL POOR DEVIL! by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET PORTRAIT OF A BABY by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET MISSING THE BO IN THE HENHOUSE by HAYDEN CARRUTH IN THE GARDEN AT THE DAWN HOUR by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: REV. LEMUEL WILEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |