The lamp-lit page is turned, the dream forgotten; <br />The music changes tone, you wake, remember <br />Deep worlds you lived before, deep worlds hereafter <br />Of leaf on falling leaf, music on music, <br />Rain and sorrow and wind and dust and laughter. <br /> <br />Helen was late, and Miriam came too soon; <br />Joseph was dead, his wife and children starving; <br />Elaine was married and soon to have a child. <br />You dreamed last night of fiddler crabs with fiddles. <br />They played a buzzing melody, and you smiled. <br /> <br />Tomorrow—what ? And what of yesterday ? <br />Through soundless labyrinths of dream you pass, <br />Through many doors to the one door of all. <br />Soon as it's opened we shall hear a music: <br />Or see a skeleton fall. <br /> <br />We walk with you. Where is it that you lead us ? <br />We climbed the muffled stairs beneath high lanterns. <br />We descend again. We grope through darkened cells. <br />You say: 'This darkness, here, 'will slowly kill me— <br />It creeps and weighs upon me .... is full of bells. <br /> <br />'This is the thing remembered I would forget: <br />No matter where I go, how soft I tread, <br />This windy gesture menaces me with death. <br />'Fatigue!' it says—and points its finger at me; <br />Touches my throat and stops my breath. <br /> <br />'My fans, my jewels, the portrait of my husband, <br />The torn certificate for my daughter's grave— <br />These are but mortal seconds in immortal time. <br />They brush me, fade away—like drops of water. <br />They signify no crime. <br /> <br />'Let us retrace our steps: I have deceived you! <br />Nothing is here I could not frankly tell you— <br />No hint of guilt, or faithlessness, or threat. <br />Dreams—they are madness; staring eyes—illusion. <br />Let us return, hear music, and forget.'<br /><br />Conrad Potter Aiken<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/haunted-chambers/
