GOSSIP
Martha Dickinson Bianchi translation
Though blameless thy living As Anchorite's fate, Yet Gossip will find thee Or early or late.
Through keyhole he enters And stands at thy side, Doors of wood nor of stone Against him provide.
He pulls the alarm bell At slightest excuse— And down to thy grave Will pursue with abuse.
Self defence nothing boots thee, Thy flight he will worst— To earth he will tread thee, O Gossip be cursed!