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The Doors AS through the Void we went I heard his plumes Strike on the darkness. It was passing sweet To hold his hand and feel that thin air beat Against our pinions as we winged those glooms Of Ebon, through which Atropos still dooms Each soul to pass. Then presently our feet Found footing on a ledge of dark retreat, And opposite appeared two doors of tombs Seen by the star upon the angel’s head That made dim twilight; there I caught my breath: “Why pause we here?” The angel answering said, “The journey ends. These are the Doors of Death; Lo, now they open, inward, for the dead.” And then a Voice,—“Who next that entereth?” Lloyd Mifflin's other poems:
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