The Door is flashing to and fro;
The light leaps out in amber streams.
I gather up a shaft and go
Back to the sleeping hosts below
And thread the light within their dreams—
And then I seek again the glow
Where the Door flashes to and fro.
The Door that flashes leads to Heaven,
And none have seen it opened wide;
But some have gathered up, as leaven,
A golden portion of its tide—
And it is woven in my song
With earthly fibres, lest its light
Should blind the timid human sight
With blazings bright and strong.
His eyes are darkened still with sin,
His ears are deadened to the Call,
Whoever says he wandered in
The blazing doors and learned the All.
The creeds were writ with blood and hate,
With here and there a golden glow
That filtered through the jewelled Gate,
The Door that flashes to and fro.
To one in every host is given
A glimpse beyond the flashing Door—
A daring glance–and he is driven
Back to his subterranean floor.
But in his hair the light will burn;
His eyes will wear the holy glow;
And blinded hosts will rise and yearn
The living Light he brought below.
Sometimes an outcast, with a cry
Of joy beside his dying fire
Sees the swift portal flash on high,
And runs to tell the hosts of Tyre;
And hears the high priests mock and jeer,
The jesters laugh, the wise men roar—
And finds not any man to hear
His message of the flashing Door.
If you would know what burns inside
The Door that flashes to and fro,
Bid swift adieu to creed and pride,
And wash you linen white as snow,
And go as any simple child
Who filches pearls upon the shore,
And you shall gather, undefiled,
Some beauty of the flashing Door.
Some day I’ll hear the cymbals crash,
The bugles break the frightened air
And see the golden portals flash
With light that even for them is fair:
And through the door I’ll pass, and on,
And on, beneath the sunless skies,
Until I find the Eternal Dawn–
The shining of the Master’s eyes.
