I LOATHE this room, for it seems to blab A hideous secret I would hide; With its sly, straight chairs, its wall-paper drab, Its corners cool and its hearthstone wide. Invisible hands reach forth, as fain To clutch at Something; and here and there Lurk shadowy heads; and moans of pain, Dulled down by dust, infest the air. Dark innuendos and ugly hints, Too delicate to be more than guessed, Move o'er the floor; in the very tints Of the curtains evil is dim-expressed. Whene'er I enter, I feel the jeers; The mirrors mow at me, face to face; Noon and night, 'tis a nest for fears, A sneaking, pitiless, hellish place. Open the windows, throw back the door, Let wind-sweet sunlight flood in and shine! But oh, for my soul as it was before, -- The spirit indwelling is mine, is mine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BROODING GRIEF by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE A GIRL OF POMPEII by EDWARD SANDFORD MARTIN EPIGRAM ENGRAVED ON THE COLLAR OF A DOG by ALEXANDER POPE SONNET: 2 by GWENDOLYN B. BENNETT SONG BY AN OLD SHEPHERD by WILLIAM BLAKE IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: FAREWELL DARK by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT A CAROL FOR CHRISTMAS DAY BEFORE DAWN by GORDON BOTTOMLEY THE KING'S GIFT by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING TO MRS. K.T (WHO ASKED HIM WHY HE WAS DUMB) by JOHN CLEVELAND |