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 To-Night That I Must Never More Behold Your Face. This Now Is Yours. I Seek Another Place.