rang on Sabbaths, only this they durst not do. So they swept onwards
nearer and nearer Hell. But when they were come quite close and the
glare was on their faces, and they saw the gates already divide and
prepare to open outwards, they said: 'Hell is a terrible city, and
she is tired of cities;' then suddenly they dropped her by the side
of the road, and wheeled and flew away. But into a great pink flower
that was horrible and lovely grew the soul of La Traviata; and it
had in it two eyes but no eyelids, and it stared constantly into the
faces of all the passers-by that went along the dusty road to Hell;
and the flower grew in the glare of the lights of Hell, and withered
but could not die; only, one petal turned back towards the heavenly
hills as an ivy leaf turns outwards to the day, and in the soft and
silvery light of Paradise it withered not nor faded, but heard at
times the commune of the saints coming murmuring from the distance,
and sometimes caught the scent of orchards wafted from the heavenly
hills, and felt a faint breeze cool it every evening at the hour
when the saints to Heaven's edge went forth to bless the dead.

But the Lord arose with His sword, and scattered His disobedient
angels as a thresher scatters chaff.




On The Dry Land

Over the marshes hung the gorgeous night with all his wandering
bands of nomad stars, and his whole host of still ones blinked and
watched.