 | The Collected Poetry of Paul Laurence Dunbar |  |
BEHIND THE ARRAS
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
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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.
| The Collected Poetry of Paul Laurence Dunbar | |