BLUEBEARDBy Edna St.

Vincent MillayThis door you might not open, and you did;So enter now, and see for what slight thingYou are betrayed Here is no treasure hid,No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroringThe sought-for truth, no heads of women slainFor 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 keptUnto myself, lest any know me quite;And you did so profane me when you creptUnto the threshold of this room to-nightThat I must never more behold your face.

This now is yours.

I seek another place.

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