Bluebeard

This door you might not open, and you did;
  So enter now, and see for what slight thing
  You are betrayed.... Here is no treasure hid,
  No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring
  The sought-for truth, no heads of women slain
  For greed like yours, no writhings of distress,
  But only what you see.... Look yet again--
  An empty room, cobwebbed and comfortless.
  Yet this alone out of my life I kept
  Unto myself, lest any know me quite;
  And you did so profane me when you crept
  Unto the threshold of this room to-night
  That I must never more behold your face.
  This now is yours. I seek another place.

        Edna St. Vincent Millay