I was born in Rockland, Maine, February 22nd, 1892. From an early age, I loved to write, and I became a famous poet and playwright later in life. Some of my poetry volumes include "A Few Figs from Thistles" (1920), "The Harp Weaver"(1923), "Wine from These Grapes" (1934), and "Make Bright the Arrows"(1940), among others. Here follows one of my most famous poems, 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 tonight
That I must never more behold your face.
This now is yours. I seek another place.
