| WHERE a faint light shines alone, | |
| Dwells a Demon I have known. | |
| Most of you had better say | |
| “The Dark House,” and go your way. | |
| Do not wonder if I stay. | 5 |
| |
| For I know the Demon’s eyes, | |
| And their lure that never dies. | |
| Banish all your fond alarms, | |
| For I know the foiling charms | |
| Of her eyes and of her arms, | 10 |
| |
| And I know that in one room | |
| Burns a lamp as in a tomb; | |
| And I see the shadow glide, | |
| Back and forth, of one denied | |
| Power to find himself outside. | 15 |
| |
| There he is who is my friend, | |
| Damned, he fancies, to the end— | |
| Vanquished, ever since a door | |
| Closed, he thought, for evermore | |
| On the life that was before. | 20 |
| |
| And the friend who knows him best | |
| Sees him as he sees the rest | |
| Who are striving to be wise | |
| While a Demon’s arms and eyes | |
| Hold them as a web would flies. | 25 |
| |
| All the words of all the world, | |
| Aimed together and then hurled, | |
| Would be stiller in his ears | |
| Than a closing of still shears | |
| On a thread made out of years. | 30 |
| |
| But there lives another sound, | |
| More compelling, more profound; | |
| There’s a music, so it seems, | |
| That assuages and redeems, | |
| More than reason, more than dreams. | 35 |
| |
| There’s a music yet unheard | |
| By the creature of the word, | |
| Though it matters little more | |
| Than a wave-wash on a shore— | |
| Till a Demon shuts a door. | 40 |
| |
| So, if he be very still | |
| With his Demon, and one will, | |
| Murmurs of it may be blown | |
| To my friend who is alone | |
| In a room that I have known. | 45 |
| |
| After that from everywhere | |
| Singing life will find him there; | |
| Then the door will open wide, | |
| And my friend, again outside, | |
| Will be living, having died. | 50 |
