Fiammetta by Helen Gray Cone — Read

In dream I passed the Gate that bears in black, / "Here lies dead Hope. " The ineffable gold sky / I saw between the pillars, looking back, / And one young cloud, that slowly wandered by / As though it wondered. Downward, all was dark, / And through the dark I heard the sad souls cry.

Anon, although alone, I whispered, "Hark! / What lifeless laughter, crackling thorny-thin? " / Then grew to sight what first I failed to mark / When from the accustomed light I entered in, -- / A group that pleasured by that barren wall / As Hell some delicate-blossomed close had been: / One, gesturing, spake; the rest attended all, / "Declare, ye circled shades, your home on earth! / Declare the names your kindred used to call! " / I cried, much marvelling at their mirthless mirth. / A woman wavered to the space half lit / By that lost sky: "In Florence had we birth; / That company thou seest, who chose to sit / Ten sunny days, a fountain's flight beside, / Scattering the rose, and weaving tales of wit, / What time by Arno many cursing died. / Yes, Fiammetta am I. _Thou little flame_, / (Thus the grave Angel, to this Gate my guide,) / _With what vain flickering hast thou proved thy name! / Hast given to no chilled spirit aught of cheer; / Shalt now be fed and kept alight with shame, / And flicker evermore._"