Explore "The Front Door" by John Gould Fletcher on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was always the place where our farewells were taken, When we travelled to the north.
I remember there was one who made some journey, But did not come back.
Many years they waited for him, At last the one who wished the most to see him, Was carried out of this selfsame door in death.
Since then all our family partings Have been at another door.