It's a dark and narrow stairway to the room overhead, But I am not afraid to go. There is room for only one on each winding, narrow tread, But I can feel the way, I know. There are stirrings now and then in the room overhead, There are dear old feet upon the floor. They are setting forth my chair, they are making up my bed, They are waiting just inside the door. There are wide, wide views from the room overhead, And the heart of all home is there. I shall then begin to live, though men will call me dead, When I've mounted the narrow stair. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES by ROBERT BURNS MOTHER NATURE by EMILY DICKINSON ALMS by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY BEAUTIFUL WOMEN by WALT WHITMAN SONG OF THE OPEN ROAD by WALT WHITMAN HE REMEMBERS FORGOTTEN BEAUTY by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE MORAL FABLES: THE FOX, THE WOLF, AND THE HUSBANDMAN by AESOP DIRGE FOR THE LATE JAMES CURRIE, M.D., OF LIVERPOOL by LUCY AIKEN |