Pandora slipped her hands onto the lid
Merely intending one clandestine peep,
And as she lifted, monsters of the id
Slowly began arising from their sleep.
Cruelty flew out over less wakeful beasts,
Heedless of tortured screams rising from Hell;
Diseases followed, with unholy priests
And lowly demons, sprung from Satan's well.
They came with noisy, flapping leathern wings,
With coils of questing tendrils, seeking prey,
All of the most unsavoury of things
Crawled, flew or slithered to the light of day.
It seemed that all was lost to evil's shame,
Until hope ventured out, to speak her name.