Once, in that cave, I heard my breath:
I heard my breath, as cowards do,
And guilty men; or misers, when
They sort their old coins from the new.
Tread softly there: in there a sigh
Has left a heavy groan behind;
Each whisper turns to thunder, and
A whistle to a gale of wind;
Hold tight your breath, nor cry for help
Where, though you perish, none may come:
And softly creep, before you're crazed,
Back to the open light and home.