High are its walls so you can’t see o’er,
And so narrow are they that one can’t get in;
Nor outward swings its close-barred door
Of Love, to welcome one’s kith and kin.
The shutter of Sympathy’s never drawn
To send forth a message of hope and cheer;
The flag on the tower, from eve till dawn,
Reads, “I live alone; please don’t come near.”
“And who is the inmate,--some witch or elf?
And the name of the house? I cannot guess!”
The inmate’s a shriveled-up dwarf called Self,
And the narrow house is Selfishness!