[Poems by Tabb in] Father Tabb | ||
THE GHOST CHAMBER
Into the lonely room,
Spawning an icy gloom,
Lost in a wandering swoon
Gloats the wide-horned moon.
Spawning an icy gloom,
Lost in a wandering swoon
Gloats the wide-horned moon.
Silent the shadows gray
Shrink from her touch away,
Loathing her leprous light
Spotting the robe of Night,
Moulting a hoary gloom
Over a haunted room.
Shrink from her touch away,
Loathing her leprous light
Spotting the robe of Night,
Moulting a hoary gloom
Over a haunted room.
Cometh no whisper there:
Spasms of dank despair
Curdle the echoes round,
Stifling the birth of sound
In the grim charnel-womb
Of the deserted room.
Spasms of dank despair
Curdle the echoes round,
214
In the grim charnel-womb
Of the deserted room.
Stark are the staring walls,
Like unto lidless balls—
Domes of departed sleep—
Doomed evermore to keep
Watch o'er the prisoned gloom
Of the forsaken room.
Like unto lidless balls—
Domes of departed sleep—
Doomed evermore to keep
Watch o'er the prisoned gloom
Of the forsaken room.
[Poems by Tabb in] Father Tabb | ||