A Stable Wall or A Fickle Door?

"I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that ye stir not up nor awake my love, until he please. ...What shall we do for our sister in the day when she shall be spoken for? If she be a wall, we will build upon her a palace of silver: and if she be a door, we will enclose her with boards of cedar."   

 Song of Solomon 8:4,8(b)-9 

I charge you, O daughters

Who dream in the breeze,

That ye stir not nor awake

My love till he please. 

And what shall I say more?

But this I inquire--

Do ponder thy path well,

Keep guard thy desire. 

Art thou like a wall

That's stable and sure?

Or is thy heart open

To aught like a door? 

A wall is quite anchored

To the foundation,

In strength it upholds

The King's habitation. 

It offers security,

Protection and shade,

And reveals the skill

With which it was made. 

This wall wavers not

In winds that may blow,

To those lustful whims

It firmly says 'no'. 

It guards those inside

From foreign intrusion,

And never gives harm

By foolish protrusion. 

The weary may lean

Upon this stable wall

Without fear it gives way

Into which they might fall. 

The wall is the beauty

Of the house it upholds,

The mighty rejoice when

It's strength they behold. 

What is to be done

Unto such a wall?

Shall not we display

The King's banners thereon? 

I charge you, O daughters

Who dream in the breeze,

That ye stir not nor awake

My love till he please. 

But what of the door

That's open to aught--

Is it firm and stable?

I tell you it's not! 

It swings in and out

With every new wind--

Wisdom slips out while

Mischief rushes in. 

It cares not to support

The weary and worn,

But opens up wide to

Each whim that is born. 

It cannot decide

The way it will go--

It's affections are fickle,

It swings to and fro'. 

It causes to stumble

Those passing nearby;

At first it is closed,

Then open it flies. 

The King's silver palace

Cannot be upheld

By pivoting doors

So fickle to tell. 

What ought to be done

Unto such a door?

A wall built around

Will enclose it secure. 

For boundaries must be

About the free heart

That cannot control

Its own self apart. 

Art thou like a wall

That's steady and sure?

Or is thine heart open

To aught like a door? 

I charge you, O daughters

Who dream in the breeze,

That ye stir not nor awake

My love till he please.

Copyright © 2014 Elisabeth Linzey