Hell Is Full Of Good

How Low, How Little Are The Proud, How Indigent The Great!

He Pass'd The Flaming Bounds Of Place And Time: The Living Throne, The Sapphire Blaze, Where Angels Tremble While They Gaze, He Saw; But Blasted With Excess Of Light, Closed His Eyes In Endless Night.

The Hues Of Bliss More Brightly Glow, Chastis'd By Sabler Tints Of Woe.

Nor Grandeur Hear With A Disdainful Smile The Short And Simple Annals Of The Poor.

O'er Her Warm Cheek, And Rising Bosom, Move The Bloom Of Young Desire And Purple Light Of Love.