A poem by William Blake from For the Sexes: The Gates of Paradise:

Truly, My Satan, thou art but a Dunce,
And dost not know the Garment from the Man
Every Harlot was a Virgin once,
Nor canst thou ever change Kate into Nan.

Tho' thou art Worship'd by the Names Divine
Of Jesus & Jehovah, thou art still
The Son of Morn in weary Night's decline,
The lost Traveller's Dream under the Hill.

Log in or registerto write something here or to contact authors.