@3It had five chimneys, had that Inn, (As every man has senses five, The while upon earth he bides alive) And rumor said it was soiled with sin!@1 The clapboards, warped and gray, showed stains Of more than an hundred autumn rains; No birds sang about the eaves, Only the leaves, only the leaves, Murmured in a minor weird As though they shrank, as though they feared, -- Feared some blind, inscrutable thing, And ever they kept on murmuring. Upon the window-panes the dust Was caked and cracked like a wizened crust, -- A grimy crust that none would touch Unless he felt gaunt famine's clutch. Mould made dank and dark each door, And every lintel and every floor With the drifting silt of the years was deep; And shapes that crawl and writhe and creep Traced strange arabesques over all. @3It had five chimneys, had that Inn, And rumor said it was soiled with sin!@1 Above, in the long low dancing-hall, You could hear the death-watch in the wall, A sound that seemed to jibe and mock Like the eerie tick of a ghostly clock. In every corner and crevice hung Spider-tapestries that clung To the crumbling mortar, -- grim festoons; And the wraith of ancient rigadoons Floated faintly, as though unseen Fiddlers fingered the chorded bow, And maskers, antic of garb and mien, Flitted in sinuous to and fro. @3It had five chimneys, had that Inn, And rumor said it was soiled with sin!@1 And every chamber, wide and bare, Breathed on the dim and moated air Spectral echoings, -- doubts and fears, Hates and loves of the parted years; And every hallway and every stair Creaked and groaned with the gruesome tread Of those long silent, of those long dead, -- Youth, in its radiant rainbow guise; Wrinkled Age, with its shrunken eyes; Honor, garbed in the mail of Trust; Poverty, Riches and slinking Lust; Oh, what a motley! -- vanished quite Into the vastnesses of night! @3It had five chimneys, had that Inn, And rumor said it was soiled with sin!@1 And so I left it standing still And stark by the crossroads under the hill, With its sagging roof and its rotting beams, And all of its tangled maze of dreams. But it holds me, aye, it haunts me yet, Like a hooded vision of Regret, Though I fain would say to it, "Be gone!" As to the night mists saith the dawn. And yet I needs must let it dwell In memory till some happy spell Shall bid it be invisible! Come, healing spirit, and touch my soul, And make it sweet and sane and whole! @3It had five chimneys, had that Inn, (As every man has senses five, The while upon earth he bides alive) And rumor said it was soiled with sin!@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RIVER by RALPH WALDO EMERSON STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE by BERNARD BARTON FINITE AND INFINITE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE RING AND THE BOOK: BOOK 2. HALF-ROME by ROBERT BROWNING A FAITHFUL DOG by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON TO MY SON by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE WATER-BEARER by ALICE CARY |