The Devil Flies Over The Earth By Night Poem by Paul Wilson

I have flown over lands where no lights burn
Which would prick! your eyes and make real tears,
While up on high the cold stars still turn
To measure out the passage of years.

I have entered the chambers where the slumberers sleep
- the delicate skin, and oh! the soft breath;
they cannot go back, and I count them like sheep
Down the winding-stair of their dreams to their death.

I have crossed the gaze of the prince-infant as he lay
Swathed him in a golden web of decay
He cannot go back, and I usher him down
For he must render his soul for his crown.

There, from a window in a turret wall
A lady looks out on a landscape, and knows
She can summon the spirits, they will answer her call
But she cannot remember the smell of a rose!

I know what I know and I wish I could tell
The alphabet of all I have learned
But I cannot go back, I must follow the bell
I have touched the stars, and now I am burned!