The house was old, with tangled wings outthrown, Of which no one could ever half keep track, And in a small room somewhat near the back Was an odd window sealed with ancient stone. There, in a dream-plagued childhood, quite alone I used to go, where night reigned vague and black; Parting the cobwebs with a curious lack Of fear, and with a wonder each time grown.
One later day I brought the masons there To find what view my dim forbears had shunned, But as they pierced the stone, a rush of air Burst from the alien voids that yawned beyond. They fled - but I peered through and found unrolled All the wild worlds of which my dreams had told.