A Key

A golden key,
In a golden latch.
Worked on flanges,
That didn't match.

But they locked me in,
Both in and out.
And in finding my way,
I turned right about.

And I treaded a path,
Where the blue-jays call.
Where trailing vines lift,
To go over the wall.

Where the hedge-row runs,
In a flowering mass.
And the water seeps down,
Where I want to pass.

And there on the gate,
Is the latch and the pin.
The key to let me out...
The one to let me in.


E.P. 1908 - 1989