This door you might not open, and you did;
 So enter now, and see for what slight thing
You are betrayed.... Here is no treasure hid
 No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring
The sought-for truth, no heads of women slain
 For greed like yours, no writhings of distress
But only what you see.... Look yet again—
 An empty room, cobwebbed and comfortless
Yet this alone out of my life I kept
 Unto myself, lest any know me quite;
And you did so profane me when you crept
 Unto the threshold of this room to-night
That I must never more behold your face. 
 This now is yours. I seek another place.