Vast Are Its Halls, As Vast The Halls And Lone Where Death Stalks Listening To The Wind And Rain; And Dark That House, Where I Shall Meet Again My Long-Dead Sin In Some Dread Way Unknown; For I Have Dreamed Of Stairs Of Haunted Stone, And Spectre Footsteps I Have Fled In Vain; And Windows Glaring With A Blood-Red Stain, And Horrible Eyes, That Burn Me To The Bone, Within A Face That Looks As That Black Night It Looked When Deep I Dug For It A Grave, - The Dagger Wound Above The Brow, The Thin Blood Trickling Down Slantwise The Ghastly White; - And I Have Dreamed Not Even God Can Save Me And My Soul From That Risen Sin.