Classic Poem

I KNOW thee not, O moon!—thou caverned realm,
Sad satellite, a giant ash of death,
Where cold, alternate, and the sulphurous breath
Of ravaging volcanoes, overwhelm
All chance of life like ours—art thou not
Some fallow world, after a reaping time
Of creatures' judgment, resting in thy lot?
Or haplier must I take thee for the blot
On God's fair firmament, the home of crime,
The prison-house of sin, where damned souls
Feed upon punishment? O thought sublime,
That, amid Night's black deeds, when evil prowls
Through the broad world, then, watching sinners well,
Glares over all the wakeful eye of—Hell!