We meet in an evil land That is near to the gates of Hell. I wait for thy command To serve, to speed or withstand. And thou sayest I do not well? Oh, Love, the flowers so red Are only tongues of flame, The earth is full of the dead, The new-killed, restless dead. There is danger beneath and o'erhead, And I guard thy gates in fear Of words thou canst not hear, Of peril and jeopardy, Of signs thou canst not see— And thou sayest 'tis ill that I came?