AND at the last he came to a gray inn, About which all was gray, E'en to the sky that overhung the day; And though in time long lapsed it might have been Bedecked with tavern gauds, naught now it bore Above the shambling door Saving a creaky sign, Whereon the storm had blurred each limned line. The portal hung a-cringe, Belike to fall from off its one bruised hinge; And on the deep-set casement's leaded panes The spiders wove their geometric skeins. Hot weariness was on him, -- he must rest; And though he deemed to find no other guest, No comradeship, within The ghostly grayness of that somber inn, Lo, as he crossed the lintel he beheld, In the packed gloom Of the low-raftered room, One from whose eyes the mysteries of eld Shone in lack-luster wise! And oh, the unfathomable strangeness of those eyes! From boot to drooping plume Gray-garmented was he, and his still face Was like the wan sea when the banked clouds chase Above it through the winter's iron skies. One lean hand held a box of shaken dice, And in a trice This grim and gray one cried, "Come, throw with me! Long have I waited thee." And he, late-entered, answered, "Naught have I To wager!" And the gray one made reply, "Thou hast thy soul, and shouldst thou cast and win, Lo, all the hoarded treasure of this inn!" They gripped and cast, but, ere he saw which won, The sleeper stirred and woke, -- the dream was done! Within his breast there throbbed a stabbing sting: That day, for wealth, and what its trappings bring, He knew his hand would do an evil thing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO TWO UNKNOWN LADIES by AMY LOWELL TO A POET, WHO WOULD HAVE ME PRAISE CERTAIN BAD POETS, IMITATORS ... by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS VLAMERTINGHE: PASSING THE CHATEAU, JULY 1917 by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN CHANSON INNOCENTE: 2, FR. TULIPS by EDWARD ESTLIN CUMMINGS HOLY SONNET: ANNUNCIATION by JOHN DONNE THE LAST CHANTEY by RUDYARD KIPLING THE GOOD SHEPHERD by FELIX LOPE DE VEGA CARPIO |