Hang on, stitching together your page...
Nothing out here breaks the quiet pall,
not a single light to split the gloom.
Empty of all life, it’s like a tomb.
I’ll retreat for now up to my room,
it’s too creepy in the hall.
I mistrust my father’s moral way.
When I see that map and silker teaming
somehow they exude an evil seeming.
Is it simply apprehensive dreaming?
I’ve a feeling of dismay.