As in some dim baronial hall restrained,
A prisoner sits, engirt by secret doors
And waving tapestries that argue forth
Strange passages into the outer air;
So in this dimmer room which we call life,
Thus sits the soul and marks with eye intent
That mystic curtain o'er the portal death;
Still deeming that behind the arras lies
The lambent way that leads to lasting light.
Poor fooled and foolish soul! Know now that death
Is but a blind, false door that nowhere leads,
And gives no hope of exit final, free.
Behind The Arras
Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Poem topics: hope, life, light, poor, room, door, foolish, prisoner, blind, secret, portal, final, strange, death, soul, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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