’Twas a sound that oft, when thirsty, I had heard with joy before;
And when it I heard repeating, thro’ the darkness sent I greeting,
Saying, “Who is that that’s drinking something in behind my door?”—
For the sound came from a chamber, mine erstwhile, now mine no more—
“Who are you and what d’you pour?”
But no answer came, so rising with a rashness most surprising,
“Sir,” said I, “or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, when I heard some liquid lapping,
Lapping, lapping, softly lapping, in behind this chamber-door.
Who are you in there, I pray you?”—here I opened wide the door—