The Closed Room
Reading edition
In the marvelous house of life Each year is a closèd room; It is filled with peace and strife, It is packed with glow and gloom. There are hopes in the hues of dream, There are cares in their grim array, There are pleasures that glint and gleam, And sorrows in drugget gray. For some, with his infinite grace, Love waits when the portal jars; For some, with his sphinx-like face, Death stands when the door unbars. Some back from the threshold shrink, As loath from the past to part; But the most plunge over the brink With never a fear at heart. Then silent closes the door At the sound of the last old chime, And the key—Forevermore— Is turned by the keeper—Time!