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| ONE day there entered at my chamber door | |
| A presence whose light footfall on the floor | |
| No token gave; and, ere I could withstand, | |
| Within her clasp she drew my trembling hand. | |
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| “Intrusive guest,” I cried, “my palm I lend | 5 |
| But to the gracious pressure of a friend! | |
| Why comest thou, unbidden and in gloom, | |
| Trailing thy cold gray garments in my room? | |
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| “I know thee, Pain! Thou art the sullen foe | |
| Of every sweet enjoyment here below; | 10 |
| Thou art the comrade and ally of Death, | |
| And timid mortals shrink from thy cold breath. | |
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| “No fragrant balms grow in thy garden beds, | |
| Nor slumbrous poppies droop their crimson heads; | |
| And well I know thou comest to me now | 15 |
| To bind thy burning chains upon my brow!” | |
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| And though my puny will stood straightly up, | |
| From that day forth I drank her pungent cup, | |
| And ate her bitter bread,—with leaves of rue, | |
| Which in her sunless gardens rankly grew. | 20 |
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| And now, so long it is, I scarce can tell | |
| When Pain within my chamber came to dwell; | |
| And though she is not fair of mien or face, | |
| She hath attracted to my humble place | |
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| A company most gracious and refined, | 25 |
| Whose touches are like balm, whose voices kind: | |
| Sweet Sympathy, with box of ointment rare; | |
| Courage, who sings while she sits weaving there; | |
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| Brave Patience, whom my heart esteemeth much, | |
| And who hath wondrous virtue in her touch. | 30 |
| Such is the chaste and sweet society | |
| Which Pain, my faithful foe, hath brought to me. | |
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| And now upon my threshold there she stands, | |
| Reaching to me her rough yet kindly hands | |
| In silent truce. Thus for a time we part, | 35 |
| And a great gladness overflows my heart; | |
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| For she is so ungentle in her way | |
| That no host welcomes her or bids her stay; | |
| Yet, though men bolt and bar their house from thee, | |
| To every door, O Pain, thou hast a key! | 40 |
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