My Threshold

So many steps,
Have worn my threshold through.
Starting from the time,
When all the wood was new.

When those I didn't know,
Were living here.
Who left their foot-prints,
Whose name we now revere.

From door to door their touch of feet,
Where fiber did embalm.
And sifting sweetly through the air,
On tones...that sound in psalms.

The ever grinding length of years,
Are gone...and are no more.
But they have worn by steady tread,
The wood beneath each door.

O Hear...the knelling of the bells,
For they are far and few.
And never will they sound again,
For those who wore my threshold through.


E.P. 1908 - 1989