Near the corner, and near the clock, Sits a man in a dingy frock; A slouchèd hat on his head wears he, So sunken his eyes you cannot see; His clothes are turned of a rusty hue, All worn with age and damp with dew, A traveler! I’ll be sworn he be, This stranger man so strange to see, Weary with driving adown the lea; He hath ridden hard—he hath ridden long, And would like a meal more than a song! The rattling dice come rattling down! The pictured tablets glide; But a deeper shade on the light hath grown Of the parlor dim and wide, And the embers utter a fitful blaze On the forms that sit beside: For three look white in its ghastly rays— White as the corpse of ended days— While three are dark, and yet darker gaze On the cards and dice with which each one plays In the parlor dim and wide! And near the corner—near the clock— In silence sitteth still, The stranger motionless as a rock— The stranger man with a dingy frock— Who entered the room without nod or knock, As quietly as a rill. Clicking!—clicking!—all the while, The old clock soundeth on, As if it never had seen a smile, But was kin to that in the abbey-aisle— Chiming for mortals gone! Click—click! and hearts are beating High with the fate of game; Click—click! the clock is repeating Its lesson still the same— But one has uttered a fearful word, And started up like a startled bird, To dash the dice-box down; And with the click of the ancient clock Is heard the click of a pistol’s cock— And then—the deep fall, in a sudden shock, Of a body lifeless grown. The stranger is standing beside the board— The stranger that entered without a word— And to five who with cowardice quail and quake, As white as the moon looking on the lake, It was thus that the noiseless stranger spake:— “The blood which has ceased in the veins to run Of this form that shall nevermore feel the sun, This blood—a score of years ago— Belonged to a noble hidalgo, With a great estate and a greater name, And a palace proud, and a beauteous dame, And a little child—his only heir— Soft as the dew in the morning air, And as opening roses fresh and fair.