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 feat
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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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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