Classic Poem

Through me it goes into the Dolourous City,
Through me, to Dolour where no end [must] be;
Through me, to people, lost beyond all pity.
'Twas Justice moves my great creator. Me
High Wisdom made; and at my fashioning
Were Eldest Love, and Heavenly Potency;
Before me was not a created thing,
If not for ay; and ay I guard the centre.
Abandon every hope, all ye who enter.

These words, in dusky characters, did I see
Written above a gate; at which I said,
‘Master, the sense of them seems hard to see.’
And he, as one prepared, looked and replied;
‘'Tis fitting here all doubt be laid aside,
All poverty of spirit be as dead.’