Classic Poem

Am I a prisoner? What have I done? …
What is this silence and this heavy door?
Suppose 'tis bolted and I go out no more?
I sweat all over and I seem like one
Hid in a dungeon by some cruel king.
There is an evil in this atmosphere.
Here is the sudden thrust of swordlike fear.
The air seems full of subtle reasoning.
What web of craft here weaves its rich design!
With sighs of men forgotten! What prayers are these!
Some whispering of things strange and malign
Masters my will with cruel images!
Now fierce magnetic energies constrain
My flesh to shake and all but freeze my brain.