As In Some Dim Baronial Hall Restrained, A Prisoner Sits, Engirt By Secret Doors And Waving Tapestries That Argue Forth Strange Passages Into The Outer Air; So In This Dimmer Room Which We Call Life, Thus Sits The Soul And Marks With Eye Intent That Mystic Curtain O'Er The Portal Death; Still Deeming That Behind The Arras Lies The Lambent Way That Leads To Lasting Light. Poor Fooled And Foolish Soul! Know Now That Death Is But A Blind, False Door That Nowhere Leads, And Gives No Hope Of Exit Final, Free.