Page:Poetry, a magazine of verse, Volume 7 (October 1915-March 1916).djvu/305

Evil :Is there a sign? Does she call me? What is the lure?


 * She does not move.


 * And I crawl to the gate, and stop,

And open the gate, again stopping, And crawl again up the stone steps— Fear driving my heart mad— Up to the door.

Door, do not open— Though I beat you with my fists!

It will not be To take the road to the left that leads Past the bovine quiet of houses Brooding over the cud of their daily content, Even though The tranquility if their gardens Is a lure that once was stronger; Even though From privet hedge and mottled laurel The young green peeps, And the daffodils And the yellow and white and purple crocuses