22

A sense of trespass—such as in the hall

Of the wrong house, one time, to me befell.

Groping between the hatstand and the wall—

A clear voice from above me like a bell,

The sweet voice of a woman asking “Well?”

No more than this. And as I fled I wondered

Into whose alien story I had blundered.

23

A like thing fell to Dymer. Bending low,