  THIS black tower drinks the blinding light. Strange windows livid white, Tremble beneath the curse of God. Yet living weeds still nod To the huge sun, a devil’s eye That tracks the souls that die. The clock beats like the heart of Doom Within the narrow room; And whispering with some ghastly air The curtains float and stir. But still she never speaks a word; I think she hardly heard When I with reeling footsteps came And softly spoke her name. But yet she does not sleep. Her eyes Still watch in wide surprise The thirsty knife that pitied her; But those lids never stir, Though creeping Fear still gnaws like pain The hollow of her brain. She must have some sly plan, the cheat, To lie so still. The beat That once throbbed like a muffled drum With fear to hear me come, Now never sounds when I creep nigh. Oh! she was always sly. And if to spite her, I dared steal Behind her bed, and feel With fumbling fingers for her heart ... Ere I could touch the smart, Once more wild shriek on shriek would tear The dumb and shuddering air.... And still she never speaks to me. She only smiles to see How in dark corners secret-sly New-born Eternity, All spider-like, doth spin and cast Strange threads to hold Time fast. |
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