LET us go home—didst thou not hear a sound?

A long, low, lispèd laugh—didst thou not hear?

A wicked whisper echoing in mine ear,

And through the shuddering silence all around,

A growling as of wild beasts underground.

And so I know mine enemy is near,

Who dwelleth in the darkness, fraught with fear,

Tracking me ever as a silent hound.

Look down into the river, deep, deep, deep—

Betwixt our long, dark shadows hand in hand,

Cast upward from the water—not down from the land.

A shadow fainter than a shade—laugh not nor weep.

Was that the echo of a rock that fell?

But also a louder laugh, hardly hushed in Hell.