A traveler once, when skies were rose and gold With Syrian sunset, paused beside the fold Where an Arabian shepherd housed his flock; Only a circling wall of rough, grey rock— No door, no gate, but just an opening wide Enough for snowy, huddling sheep to come inside. "So," questioned he, "then no wild beasts you dread?" "Ah, yes, the wolf is near," the shepherd said. "But"—strange and sweet the words Divine of yore Fell on his startled ear: "@3I am the door!@1 When skies are sown with stars, and I may trace The velvet shadows in this narrow space, I lay me down. No silly sheep may go Without the fold but I, the shepherd, know. Nor need my cherished flock close-sheltered, warm, Fear ravening wolf, save o'er my prostrate form."O word of Christ—illumined evermore For us his timid sheep—"I am the @3door!@1" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MEANING OF PRAYER by JAMES MONTGOMERY AMORETTI: 30 by EDMUND SPENSER MY LIFE by HENRY DAVID THOREAU HYMN TO SCIENCE by MARK AKENSIDE THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): JASON'S SOWING AND REAPING by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS THESE TIMES by GERTRUDE RYDER BENNETT OUR MORNING GLORY by LEVI BISHOP |