THE HOUSE OF SHADOWS.
P the long bewildering street— Called after the month of May,A street of ancient Palaces, Carved fronts of sombrous grey;With deep low groinèd arch-ways, Dripping with damp and steam,And sickly scent of sultry breath, From summer's feverish dream.'Twas there I walked the fiery pave, That seemed to scorch my feet,Tho' cold at heart, I hastened on To the last house in the street.
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My heart had threaded that street before, Had entered that gloomy door,Faltered climbing each stony step— All I had traversed before.
