"The place is haunted!"
III.
I could no more; I veiled my wearied eyes.
I said, "Is this indeed the High Ideal?
If so, give me plain faces, common skies,
The homely and the real."
But no, this limbo is not that fair land,
Beloved of soaring fancies, hearts ecstatic;
'Tis the Fools' Paradise of a small band,