I only could peer and shudder and fear--'twas ever so ghastly and still;
But I knew over there in his lonely despair
he was plotting me terrible ill.
I knew that he nursed a malice accurst,
like the blast of a winnowing flame;
I pleaded aloud for a shield, for a shroud--Oh, God! then calamity came.
Mad! If I'm mad then you too are mad; but it's all in the point of view.
If you'd looked at them things gallivantin' on wings,
all purple and green and blue;
If you'd noticed them twist, as they mounted and hissed
like scorpions dim in the dark;
If you'd seen them rebound with a horrible sound,
and spitefully spitting a spark;
If you'd watched IT with dread, as it hissed by your bed,
that thing with the feelers that crawls--
You'd have settled the brute that attempted to shoot
electricity into your walls.
Oh, some they were blue, and they slithered right through;
they were silent and squashy and round;
And some they were green; they were wriggly and lean;
they writhed with so hateful a sound.
My blood seemed to freeze; I fell on my knees;
my face was a white splash of dread.
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