II4 
THE HOUSE 
 
You guess how gladly to the door I rushed 
And flung it wide.  Why !  no one’s there !  Arouse ! 
I am asleep.  What horror came and crushed 
My whole soul’s life out as some shadow brushed 
My body and passed in ?  All sense allows 
At last the fearful truth—This is the house ! 
 
 
This is my old house on the marsh, and here, 
Here is the terror of the distant sea 
Moaning, and here the wind that wails, the drear 
Groans like a ghost’s, the desolate house of fear 
Whence I fled once from my great enemy— 
This is the house !  O speechless misery ! 
 
 
Here the great silver candlesticks illume 
The agèd book, the blackness blazoned o’er 
With golden characters and scarlet bloom 
Twined in the blue-tinged sigils wrought for doom, 
And dreadful names of necromancer’s lore 
Written therein :  so stood my room before 
 
 
When the hissed whisper came, “ Beware !  Beware ! 
They’re coming ! ” and “ They’re coming ! ” when the wind 
Bore the blank echoes of their stealthy care 
To creep up silently and find me there, 
Hid in the windowless old house, stark blind 
For fear—and then—what horrors lurked behind