Classic Poem

Dear Devil, I would pray to thee from out an earnest heart,
The lone thing in the universe who dare be what thou art,
Look up from out the torment of thy burning lakes of pain,
And pity in thy steadfastness us men who fawn and feign;
For in our cowardice we dare seem neither good nor ill,
And, lagging in the vale, pretend to climb toward the hill,
Half-men who hug within our breasts each nasty little sin,
Like rotten fruit still fair without, but nameless foul within.