Failure

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.