I saw my grandmother's shadow on the wall
In firelight; it danced with queer grimaces
As if her serious soul were making faces
At me, or life, or God, or at us all.
And I, an urchin lying at her feet,
Then caught my first glimpse of the secret powers
That stir beneath this universe of ours,
Making a witches' carnival when they meet.
Across the firelit dusk my sensitive mood
Dreamed out to mingle with the waifs of time,
Whose unsolved stories haunt the poets' rhyme,
And in dark streets of ancient cities brood
Like sudden ghosts rising above the grime
With premonition of terror that chills the blood.