The ash and brimstone might have tasted sweet
Amid the harsher fragrances of hope
That bloom like lilies, lucent on faint slopes,
And root themselves in sinless psyches deep.
I heard those vile unchaste murmurs slide
In through the gate, where purer flowers hung,
Enwrought with ancient banes in ancient tongues:
The doors to Hell remain secured with pride.
      As Parthenos in Athens she was known,
      So oathless Devil shall in Hades reign.
      Beyond the depths that man can fathom rests
      The starkest palace, laid with mica stone;
      Yet in his kingdom lies a fertile plain,
      And in its soil faith may effloresce.