Silently I heard her whispering,
pallid ivory lips soft lisping,
Paper drifting slowly shifting,
from the bedroom's mildewed walls.
In these halls stirs vaguest chanting,
whippoorwills their cries decanting;
psycopomps in midnight sighing,
just outside these mildewed walls.
Huddled forms sprawl stealthily creeping,
countless spiders surging sweeping,
toward the bed where she lies sleeping,
the maiden of these mildewed walls.
Trapped within that pall's mass trembling,
writhes the one I stayed here tending,
all those bleak nights never-ending,
within these wretched mildewed walls.
Blasphemous birds fall shrieking mocking,
through the window thickly flocking,
to snatch the soul of that thing rotting,
my sweet seraphim of cobwebbed halls.