THE HOUSE 
II5 
 
The door firm barred !—and thus they cried in vain : 
“ Open the door ! ”  Then crouched I mad with fear 
Till at the dawn their footsteps died again. 
They can do nothing to me—that is plain— 
While the door bars them !  What is that runs clear 
Truth in my mind ?  Once more they may be near ? 
 
And then came memory.  Wide the portal stood 
And—what had brushed me as it passed ?  What froze 
My dream to this awakening—fearful flood 
Of horror loosed, loosing a sweat of blood, 
An agony of terror on these brows ? 
God !  God !  Indeed, indeed this is the house ! 
 
The candles sputtered and went out.  I stood 
Fettered by fear, and heard the lonely wind 
Lament across the marsh.  A frenzied flood 
Of hate and loathing swept across my mood, 
And with a shudder I flung the door to.  Mind 
And body sank a huddled wreck behind. 
 
Nought stirred.  Draws hither the grim doom of Fate ? 
 
A long, long, while. 
 
Now—in the central core 
Of my own room what accents of keen hate 
Triumphant malice, mockery satiate, 
Rings in the voice above the storm’s wild roar ? 
It cries “ Open the door !  Open the door ! ”