Advice at the Entrance to Purgatory

(See Wm. Blake's Picture)

White is for paradise, black for hell,
Red for the realm loved too well.

Cross all three, forcing your feet
To where the ancient has his seat.

Mix the colours, climb the stairs,
Grey is the answer of your years.,

Grey is the ancient, slack his wings,
Grey become heaven-bent earthly things.

Turn around, you only leave
The red-rocked sky, metallic seas.

Waves yellow with Satan's flames,
Grass with rank growth in its veins,

Fragile sky where the Saviour bled.
But the grey old man is still and dead.