I saw two towering birds cleaving the air

And thought they were Paolo and Francesca

Leading the lost, whose wings like silver billows

Rippled the azure sky from shore to shore,

They were so many. The nightmare god was gone

Who roofed their pain, the ghastly glen lay open,

The hissing lake was still, the fiends were fled,

And only some few headless, footless mists

Crawled out and in the iron-hearted caves.

Like light’s unearthly eyes the lost looked down,

And heaven was filled and moving. Every height

On earth was thronged and all that was stared upward.

I thought, This is the reconciliation,

This is the day after the Last Day,

The lost world lies dreaming within its coils,

Grass grows upon the surly sides of Hell,

Time has caught Time and holds it fast for ever.

And then I thought, Where is the knife, the butcher,

The victim? Are they all here in their places?

Hid in this harmony? But there was no answer.