One Last Door Double-click the triangle above to hear the author narrate this poem. There’s one crude door in a corner there—It’s small and has no style.I rarely give it half a glance;It’s hardly worth my while. I’d rather try the outer doors;They seem to offer more.There’ll always be some time to tryThat plain and simple door. But one by one those other doorsKept closing in my face.And when, it seemed, they’d done their worst,They left me in disgrace. So then, when I could stand no more,When I couldn’t seem to do a thing;I hurried to that crude, small doorWhere...