My Virtual Reading Room

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(V. Kurseev, "The yard at dusk" reposted from levkonoe )
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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.

(Nancy Byrd Turner) (1932)