This door you might not open, and you did; So enter now, and see for what slight thing You are betrayed. . . . Here is no treasure hid, No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring The sought-for truth, no heads of women slain For greed like yours, no writhings of distress, But only what you see. . . . Look yet again -- An empty room, cobwebbed and comfortless. Yet this alone out of my life I kept Unto myself, lest any know me quite; And you did so profane me when you crept Unto the threshold of this room to-night That I must never more behold your face. This now is yours. I seek another place. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAST WORD OF A BLUEBIRD; AS TOLD TO A CHILD by ROBERT FROST HE FELL AMONG THIEVES by HENRY JOHN NEWBOLT MY FAMILIAR by JOHN GODFREY SAXE ANDRE by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES CHARADES: 4 by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY THE COO OF THE CUSHAT by ADA CAMBRIDGE |