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.
That seemed to scorch my feet,
Tho' cold at heart, I hastened on
To the last house in the street.
****
My heart had threaded that street before,
Had entered that gloomy door,
Faltered climbing each stony step—
All I had traversed before.
Had entered that gloomy door,
Faltered climbing each stony step—
All I had traversed before.
