THE CURTAIN

A curtain hides the mystery

That in the world is known to be,

Mute-horrid as impending thunder,

From eyes unsensual that would see

Behind it things for more than wonder -

A curtain past whose living folds

His court of shadows Horror holds.

And he that curtain who shall part

But in his mind, will feel the heart

Grow weak before the irony

That Nothingness pains more the heart

Than things that are or seem to be,

That Nothingness can give a fear,

A sorrow nothing can give here.