At last, at last the key
Is turned inside the lock, and suddenly
Swings wide the door. The heavy,
Iron-banded door, on which
Through all of life I thought were doomed
To beat, these well-nigh broken hands!

And never, never in my time did I expect
The sun to flood more brightly gold, or
Songbirds sing more sweetly. I thought
To ne'er behold
God's world so purely, rarely precious!

But while I wond'ringly peep out...
The door! The heavy, iron-banded door
Swings shudderingly on its monstrous hinges.
I cry to you, "Come in and help me...
With this door! Oh please! Don't let it shut
Me in again, this time, perhaps, for evermore!

And you, having always been out there,
Child of this magnificent creation, say,
"I am too busy... I have work to do! This sky's
Not dimming. Do not fear the door will close
Again!" But yet I am afraid! Feeling so sure
That, since you turned the key in this great door,
You needs must stand, with your strong
Back against it. Holding it open
So that I may flee!

And once again, you call "Come along into this
Meadow, or stay where you are... as you please!
But don't stand dumbly staring after me!
I have not time for you now... hear how grasses
Whisper? See, I am too busy. Flowers beckon me!"

You are so wise. With all the wisdom God
Intended for a guileless child...
Child of this magnificent creation!
And now, I too, grow wise; knowing in certainty
That there will be more accorded me. More than
Just a merest glimpse of this great wonder.
For was I not, indeed, born of it, even as you?

Most bitterly and long I wept
In my grey prison, but I surely
Did not die there!

You are so busy! I look closely at you and see
Only the most complete and utter innocence.
And suddenly ...
I know! 'Twas me... 'twas me!
For I, alone, could ever turn the key
In that great door. And it can never crush
Me more! I have no need, now, of your
Strong back and shoulder strained to it.
The warmth of sunlight, bringing life
Into my being gives me strength.

I fly from this dark place into the open field!
Let slam the door ...the heavy,
Iron-banded door; 'Tis not my jailor, now nor
Evermore can be!

Hear how grasses whisper ...
Oh God! How flowers beckon me!