It Is An Ill Thing

For There Below Ground Sits The Dark God, Strong To Call Men To Judgment; He Sees All, And Writes It In His Memory.

Justice Shines In Very Smoky Homes, And Honors The Righteous; But The Gold-spangled Mansions Where The Hands Are Unclean She Leaves With Eyes Averted.

Success! To Thee, As To A God, Men Bend The Knee.

Death Is Easier Than A Wretched Life; And Better Never To Have Born Than To Live And Fare Badly.

Rumours Voiced By Women Come To Nothing.