WHEN the owl that scared the mouse <br />Fluffed his feathers and sat still, <br />And the night around was chill, <br />On the door of yonder house <br />Someone knocked, <br />And a hand the door unlocked. <br />While the owl, aloof and drear <br />Yellow-eyed his vigil kept, <br />Down the breeze a crying crept, <br />And it seemed to tell of fear — <br />Fear and care — <br />It was Life that entered there! <br />When the owl had greyer grown <br />By a score of years and more, <br />On the selfsame cedar door <br />Of yon house that stands alone, <br />Someone knocked, <br />And a hand the door unlocked. <br />Yet, though many gracious flowers <br />Wreathed the house from floor to roof, <br />In his shadowed haunt aloof <br />Staring sat he through the hours, <br />Unaware <br />It was Love that entered there! <br />When the owl had passed away, <br />And the mouse, no more afraid, <br />In the tree-glooms frisked and played, <br />On that door at end of day <br />Someone knocked, <br />And a hand the door unlocked. <br />Once and twice that knock had come, <br />Once for Life, and once for Love; <br />Towards the night the shadows move, <br />And the land lies still and dumb <br />Everywhere — <br />It is Death that enters there!<br /><br />Roderic Quinn<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-three-knocks/
