Halls of Suffering

I call along the Halls of Suffering,
Hark! down each aisle reverberated cries
Out of deep wounds, out of each fiery spring
Of nerve, or piteous anguish of surprise.

If I should wander on till time had close.
Thee with thy muffled paws I should not find.
No chasm, nor any heinous shadow knows
Thy haunt, nor may I fear thee left behind.

Forth, forth! Away! He is not of these Halls —
No motion of him there, Whym Chow, no sound:
His ruby head shall never strike their walls.
And nowhere by a cry shall he be found.