In Winter in my Room

In Winter in my Room I came upon a Worm — Pink, lank and warm — But as he was a worm And worms presume Not quite with him at home — Secured him by a string To something neighboring And went along.

A Trifle afterward A thing occurred I'd not believe it if I heard But state with creeping blood — A snake with mottles rare Surveyed my chamber floor In feature as the worm before But ringed with power —

The very string with which I tied him — too When he was mean and new That string was there —

I shrank — "How fair you are"! Propitiation's claw — "Afraid," he hissed "Of me"? "No cordiality" — He fathomed me — Then to a Rhythm Slim Secreted in his Form As Patterns swim Projected him.

That time I flew Both eyes his way Lest he pursue Nor ever ceased to run Till in a distant Town Towns on from mine I set me down This was a dream.