They say that poison-sprinkled flowers Are sweeter in perfume Than when, untouched by deadly dew, They glowed in early bloom. They say that men condemned to die Have quaffed the sweetened wine With higher relish than the juice Of the untampered vine. They say that in the witch's song, Though rude and harsh it be, There blends a wild, mysterious strain Of weirdest melody. And I believe the devil's voice Sinks deeper in our ear Than any whisper sent from Heaven, However sweet and clear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CATS' MONTH by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS MADRIGAL by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN THE MOUNTAIN ECHO by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE SUPLIANTS: IO. CHORUS by AESCHYLUS SONNET by THEODORE AGRIPPA D' AUBIGNE THE UNKNOWN GOD by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SHE IS SO PRETTY by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER OLD THINGS by THOMAS T. BLEWETT SIR W. TRELOAR'S DINNER FOR CRIPPLED CHILDREN by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |