To The Accuser Who Is The God Of This World

Truly, My Satan, thou art but a Dunce, And dost not know the Garment from the Man. Every Harlot was a Virgin once, Nor canst thou ever change Kate into Nan. Tho’ thou art Worship’d by the Names Divine Of Jesus & Jehovah, thou art still The Son of Morn in weary Night’s decline, The lost Traveller’s Dream under the Hill.