What is thy name?
A question small, it seems,
For one whose mind the Word so much despises;
Who, scorning all external gleams,
The depths of being only prizes.
With all you gentlemen, the name's a test,
Whereby the nature usually is expressed.
Clearly the latter it implies
In names like Beelzebub, Destroyer, Father of Lies.
Who art thou, then?
Part of that Power, not understood,
Which always wills the Bad, and always works the Good.
What hidden sense in this enigma lies?
I am the Spirit that Denies!
And justly so: for all things, from the Void
Called forth, deserve to be destroyed:
'Twere better, then, were naught created.
Thus, all which you as Sin have rated,--
Destruction,--aught with Evil blent,--
That is my proper element.
(Source: Project gutenberg)