Can Bob Be Saved (Part X)

Can Bob Be Saved?

By Larry Fyffe

Here are more poems with rhymes for ‘door’ by famous poets who have influenced Bob Dylan to one degree or another.

Only this time it’s left up to the readers of ‘Untold Dylan’ to decide which of his songs that also  contain ‘door’ rhymes best correspond to a poem cited; ie, in regards to meaning:

And yet the threshold of my door
Is worn by the poor
(Robert Herrick: A Thanksgiving To God For His House)

[For example-
John Wesley Harding
Was a friend to the poor ...
He opened many a door
(Bob Dylan: John Wesley Harding)]

Here then are more ‘door’ poems:

Glad of a quarrel, straight I clap the door
“Sir, let me see your works, and you no more”
(Alexander Pope: Epistle To Dr. Arbuthnot)

The parlor splendors of the festive place
The whitewashed wall, the nicely sanded floor
The varnished clock that clicked behind the door
(Oliver Goldsmith: The Deserted Village)

Beneath them sit the aged man, wise guardians of the poor
Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door
(William Blake: Holy Thursday)

What loud uproar
bursts from that door
(Samuei Coleridge: The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner)

Sleeping, most probably, when at her door
Arose a clatter might awake the dead
If they had never been awoke before
(Lord Byron: Don Juan, Canto I)

He will awake no more, oh, never more
Within the twilight chamber spreads apace
The white shadow Death, and at the door
Invisible Corruption waits to trace
(Percy Shelley: Adonais)

A chain-dropped lamp was flickering by each door
The arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound
Fluttered in the besieging wind’s uproar
And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor
(John Keats: The Eve Of St. Agnes)

And as thee cock crew, those who stood before
The tavern shouted, “Open the door
You know how little while we have to stay
And once departed, we may return no more”
(Edward Fitzgerald: The Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam)

The boat is drawn upon the shore
Thou listenest to the closing door
(Lord Tennyson: In Memoriam)

Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door
Come away, children, call no more
(Matthew Arnold: The Forsaken Merman)

I have been here before
But when or how, I cannot tell
I know the grass beyond the door
The sweet keen smell
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore
(Dante Rossetti: Sudden Light)

Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, let’s out no more
(Christina Rossetti: Echo)

If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at the door
Watching the full-starred heaven that winter sees
Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more
“He was one who had an eye for such mysteries”
(Thomas Hardy: Afterwards)

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