A Backward Glance Can Often

Three Sparks - Pride, Envy, And Avarice - Have Been Kindled In All Hearts.

The Infernal Storm, Eternal In Its Rage, Sweeps And Drives The Spirits With Its Blast; It Whirls Them, Lashing Them With Punishment. When They Are Swept Back Past Their Place Of Judgment Then Come The Shrieks, Laments, And Anguished Cries; There They Blaspheme God's Almighty Power.

Here Let Dead Poetry Rise Once More To Life.

Now You Know How Much My Love For You Burns Deep In Me When I Forget About Our Emptiness, And Deal With Shadows As With Solid Things.

There Is A Gentle Thought That Often Springs To Life In Me, Because It Speaks Of You.