Classic Poem

He that is one,
Is none.
Two reacheth thee
In some degree.
Nature and Grace
With Glory may attain thy Face.
Steel and a flint strike fire,
Wit and desire
Never to thee aspire,
Except life catch and hold those fast.
That which belief
Did not confess in the first Thief
His fall can tell,
From Heaven, through Earth, to Hell.
Let two of those alone
To them that fall,
Who God and Saints and Angels lose at last.
He that has one,