This Door you Might not Open

This door you might not open, and you did;

So enter now, and see for what slight thing

You are betrayed. Here is no treasure hid, / No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring

The sought-for Truth, no heads of women slain

For greed like yours, no writhings of distress;

But only what you see. Look yet again:

An empty room, cobwebbed and comfortless.

Yet this alone out of my life I kept

Unto myself, lest any know me quite; And you did so profane me when you crept

Unto the threshold of this room tonight

That I must never more behold your face. This now is yours. I seek another place.