The Past

The debt is paid, The verdict said, The Furies laid, The plague is stayed, All fortunes made; Turn the key and bolt the door, Sweet is death forevermore. Nor haughty hope, nor swart chagrin, Nor murdering hate, can enter in. All is now secure and fast; Not the gods can shake the Past; Flies-to the adamantine door Bolted down forevermore. None can reenter there, - No thief so politic, No Satan with a royal trick Steal in by window, chink or hole, To bind or unbind, add what lacked Insert a leaf, or forge a name, New-face or finish what is packed, Alter or mend eternal Fact.