The door was open, saving any dare.
She seemed in wedded bliss; seemed not to care
And he stood, to stare.

Perhaps she felt a presence there: she turned.
Her raging mouth was by her eyes confirmed
And the devil squirmed.

She flew about, snatched up a pen and wrote
A furiously final, bitter note
And it seemed to gloat:

"To the exclusion of all other men;"
"'Til death" (and probably not even then)
And he squirmed again.

He closed the door. But devils disappear
On almost every night of every year.
And they leave their fear.