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.