THE LOCKLESS DOOR
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t went many years,But at last came a knock,And I thought of the doorWith no lock to lock. I blew out the light,I tip-toed the floor,And raised both handsIn prayer to the door. But the knock came again.My window was wide;I climbed on the sillAnd descended outside. Back over the sillI bade a "Come in"To whatever the knockAt the door may have been. So at a knockI emptied my cageTo hide in the worldAnd alter with age. _THE NEED OF BEING VERSED IN COUNTRY THINGS_ _The house had gone to bring againTo the midnight sky a sunset glow.Now the chimney was all of the house that stood,Like a pistil after the petals go._ _The barn opposed across the way,That would have joined the house in flameHad it been the will of the wind, was leftTo bear forsaken the place's name._ _No more it opened with all one endFor teams that came by the stony roadTo drum on the floor with scurrying hoofsAnd brush the mow with the summer load._ _The birds that came to it through the airAt broken windows flew out and in,Their murmur more like the sigh we sighFrom too much dwelling on what has been._ _Yet for them the lilac renewed its leaf,And the aged elm, though touched with fire;And the dry pump flung up an awkward arm;And the fence post carried a strand of wire._ _For them there was really nothing sad.But though they rejoiced in the nest they kept,One had to be versed in country thingsNot to believe the phoebes wept._
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