“Death is only an old door Set in a garden wall; On quiet hinges it gives, at dusk When the thrushes call. Along the lintel are green leaves, Beyond, the light lies still; Very weary and willing feet Go over that sill. There is nothing to trouble any heart; Nothing to hurt at all. Death is only an old door In a garden wall.” GivingHeartStillsLightLyingHurtTroubleDoorsFeetWillingWallQuietGardenGreenWearyDuskHingesGreen Leaves Author:Nancy Byrd Turner