Bluebeard

This door you might not open, and you did;  
   So enter now, and see for what slight thing  
You are betrayed... Here is no treasure hid,  
   No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring  
The sought-for truth, no heads of women slain         
   For greed like yours, no writhings of distress,  
But only what you see... Look yet again—
   An empty room, cobwebbed and comfortless.  
Yet this alone out of my life I kept  
   Unto myself, lest any know me quite;         
And you did so profane me when you crept  
   Unto the threshold of this room to-night  
That I must never more behold your face.  
   This now is yours. I seek another place.