The singing came from the room next to mine.

Why was it so pure, so strangely near?
Why did it touch me so?
I looked at the wall between the two rooms, and stifled a cry of surprise.
High up, near the ceiling, above the door, always kept locked, there was a light.

The song fell from that star.
There was a crack in the partition at that spot, through which the light of the next room entered the night of mine.
I climbed up on the bed, and my face was on a level with the crack.
Rotten woodwork, two loose bricks.

The plaster gave way and an opening appeared as large as my hand, but invisible from below, because of the moulding.
I looked.

I beheld.