High are its walls so you can’t see o’er,

And so narrow are they that one can’t get in;

Nor outward swings its close-barred door

Of Love, to welcome one’s kith and kin.

The shutter of Sympathy’s never drawn

To send forth a message of hope and cheer;

The flag on the tower, from eve till dawn,

Reads, “I live alone; please don’t come near.”

“And who is the inmate,—some witch or elf?

And the name of the house? I cannot guess!”

The inmate’s a shriveled-up dwarf called Self,

And the narrow house is Selfishness!