ALL NIGHT 
55 
Kissing the gates of hell, the sword of God, 
Each unto each a serpent or a rod, 
A well of wine and fire, each unto each, 
Whose lips are fain convulsively to reach 
A higher heaven, a deeper hell.  Ah !  Day 
So soon to dawn, delight to snatch away ! 
Damned day, whose sunlight finds us as with wine 
Drunken, with lust made manifest divine 
Devils of darkness, servants unto hell— 
Yea, king and queen of Sheol, terrible 
Above all fiends and furies, hating more 
The high Jehovah, loving Baal Peor, 
Our father and our lover and our god ! 
Yea, though he lift his adamantine rod 
And pierce us through, how shall his anger tame 
Fire that glows fiercer for the brand of shame 
Thrust in it ;  so, we who are all of fire, 
One dull red flare of devilish desire, 
The God of Israel shall not quench with tears, 
Nor blood of martyrs drawn from myriad spheres, 
Nor watery blood of Christ ;  that blood shall boil 
With all the fury of our hellish toil ; 
His veins shall dry with heat ;  his bones shall bleach 
Cold and detested, picked of dogs, on each