I dreamed the gates of Heaven were opened wide,
And whosoever desired therein might pass;
And, night and day, there came a weary mass
Of spirits, nor was any soul denied:
The harlot and philosopher, side by side,
The glutton and the faster, men of rhyme
Whose hearts held not a hint of place or time,
And clods, gorilla-mawed and evil-eyed.
Sorrow seemed ended for a season, and then
Some trace of grief grew audible in the light
That washed like golden waves along the sky.
It was the wailing of the souls of men
Who hungered for the vanished gloom of night,
And thirsted, at Truth’s fountain, for a lie.