Beard's Closet
By Rose Terry Cooke
Fasten the chamber!
Hide the red key;
Cover the portal,
That eyes may not see.
Get thee to market,
To wedding and prayer;
Labor or revel,
The chamber is there!
In comes a stranger–
“Thy pictures how fine,
Titian or Guido,
Whose is the sign?”
Looks he behind them?
Ah! have a care!
“Here is a finer.”
The Chamber is there!
Fair spreads the banquet,
Rich the array;
See the bright torches
Mimicking day;
When harp and viol
Thrill the soft air,
Comes a light whisper:
The Chamber is there!
Marble and painting,
Jasper and gold,
Purple from Tyrus,
Fold upon fold,
Blossoms and jewels,
Thy palace prepare:
Pale grows the monarch;
The chamber is there!
Once it was open
As shore to the sea;
White were the turrets,
Goodly to see;
All through the casements
Flowed the sweet air;
Now it is darkness;
The chamber is there!
Silence and horror
Brood on the walls;
Through every crevice
A little voice calls:
“Quicken, mad footsteps,
On pavement and stair;
Look not behind thee,
The chamber is there!”
Out of the gateway,
Through the wide world,
Into the tempest
Beaten and hurled,
Vain is thy wandering,
Sure thy despair,
Flying or staying,
The chamber is there!