Morn, Wak'd by the circling hours, with rosy hand Unbarr'd the gates of light.
Abash'd the Devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is.
And feel that I am happier than I know.
O'er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp, Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death.
Where all life dies death lives.
Knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord Envy them that? Can it be a sin to know? Can it be death?