Because God put His adamantine fate Between my sullen heart and its desire,
I swore that I would burst the Iron Gate,
Rise up, and curse Him on His throne of fire.
Earth shuddered at my crown of blasphemy,
But Love was as a flame about my feet;
Proud up the Golden Stair I strode; and
Thrice on the Gate, and entered with a cry —All the great courts were quiet in the sun,
And full of vacant echoes: moss had
Over the glassy pavement, and begun To creep within the dusty council-halls.
An idle wind blew round an empty throne And stirred the heavy curtains on the walls.
