A woman’s insistent “I love him” becomes a strange, unsettling vision. She declares that everything else—death, work, art, home—means nothing beside her love. The man she addresses doesn’t answer directly; instead, he pictures an endless maze of doors and mirrors, corridors that circle back and open into more doors. Some yield easily, others need force, and reflections multiply every choice. He could follow her voice through this labyrinth, catching her whisper or laughter just ahead or behind, but never quite reaching her. The mood is dreamlike and a little claustrophobic: her love is not tender closeness but a relentless chase with no final room, only new openings. Love here feels both magnetic and overwhelming, full of promises that keep receding.
Circles of Doors — Summary
I LOVE him, I love him, ran the patter of her lips And she formed his name on her tongue and sang And she sent him word she loved him so much, So much, and death was nothing ; work, art, home, All was nothing if her love for him was not first Of all ; the patter of her lips ran, I love him, I love him ; and he knew the doors that opened Into doors and more doors, no end of doors, And full length mirrors doubling and tripling The apparitions of doors : circling corridors of Looking glasses and doors, some with knobs, some With no knobs, some opening slow to a heavy push, And some jumping open at a touch and a hello. And he knew if he so wished he could follow her Swift running through circles of doors, hearing Sometimes her whisper, I love him, I love him, And sometimes only a high chaser of laughter Somewhere five or ten doors ahead or five or ten Doors behind, or chittering h-st, h-st, among corners Of the tall full-length dusty looking glasses. I love, I love, I love, she sang short and quick in High thin beaten soprano and he knew the meanings, The high chaser of laughter, the doors on doors And the looking glasses, the room to room hunt, The ends opening into new ends always.