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The Inn of the Five Chimneys |
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The clapboards, warped and gray, showed stains Of more than an hundred autumn rains; No birds sang about the eaves, Only the leaves, only the leaves, Murmured in a minor weird MBT Sandals Softspot Shoes Cuisinart DCC 1200 Cusinart Food Processor As though they shrank, as though they feared,-- Feared some blind, inscrutable thing, And ever they kept on murmuring. Upon the window-panes the dust Was caked and cracked like a wizened crust,- - A grimy crust that none would touch Ug Boots Allen Edmond Shoes Chipewa Boots Unless he felt gaunt famine's clutch. Mould made dank and dark each door, And every lintel and every floor With the drifting silt of the years was deep; And shapes that crawl and writhe and creep Traced strange arabesques over all. It had five chimneys, had that Inn, And rumor said it was soiled with sin! Above, in the long low dancing-hall, You could hear the death-watch in the wall, A sound that seemed to jibe and mock Like the eerie tick of a ghostly clock. In every corner and crevice hung Spider-tapestries that clung To the crumbling mortar,--grim festoons; And the wraith of ancient rigadoons Floated faintly, as though unseen Fiddlers fingered the chorded bow, And maskers, antic of garb and mien, Flitted in sinuous to and fro. It had five chimneys, had that Inn, And rumor said it was soiled with sin! LastMinute Airfares AirplaneTickets Dyson Vaccum And every chamber, wide and bare, Breathed on the dim and moated air Spectral echoings,--doubts and fears, Hates and loves of the parted years; And every hallway and every stair Creaked and groaned with the gruesome tread Privo Shoes Sorel Snow Bird Boots NineWest Shoes Of those long silent, of those long dead,-- Youth, in its radiant rainbow guise; Wrinkled Age, with its shrunken eyes; Honor, garbed in the mail of Trust; Poverty, Riches and slinking Lust; Into the vastnesses of night! It had five chimneys, had that Inn, And rumor said it was soiled with sin! Birkenstok DWS Shoes Heely Shoes Uggs Boots And so I left it standing still And stark by the crossroads under the hill, With its sagging roof and its rotting beams, And all of its tangled maze of dreams. But it holds me, aye, it haunts me yet, Like a hooded vision of Regret, Though I fain would say to it, "Be gone!" As to the night mists saith the dawn. And yet I needs must let it dwell In memory till some happy spell Shall bid it be invisible! Come, healing spirit, and touch my soul, And make it sweet and sane and whole! |