Death is only an old door
Set in a garden wall
On gentle hinges it gives, at dusk
When the thrushes call
Along the lintel are green leaves
Beyond the light lies still;
Very willing and weary feet
Go over that sill
There is nothing to trouble any heart;
Nothing to hurt at all.
Death is only a quiet door.
In an old wall.
Notes
The date given reflects the fact that this was published in 1936 in a book "The Best Loved Poems of the American People" selected by Hazel Felleman and published by Doubleday & Company.
In all probablility it is a few years older.
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Comments
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Poem dated from at least Feb 1932
From guest Charles (contact)
I have an original written "Death is a door" poem by Nancy Byrd Turner, it's signed and date on Feb 21, 1932. -
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For guest Charles
It's nice to have confirmation of what we say in the poem notes.
Thank you
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Typo, Death is a Door
From guest Suzy Hime (contact)
Should it not be "feet" in the 7th line, not "feat"
(Makes more sense to me, MOD) -
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published
From guest John Leonard (contact)
This was published in 1936 in a book "The Best Loved Poems of the American People" selected by Hazel Felleman by Doubleday & Company.
Many thanks John. We have updated our notes.
OP MODS -
Death as a garden door is an interesting metaphor. Here, the harshness of death is sanded away with the beauty of a garden setting and the quiet of dusk, save for the sounds of thrushes. I like Byrd's use of the words gentle, grren leaves, nothing and trouble. Also like the lines, "Beyond the light lies still;/Very willing and weary feat."
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