Of three-line stanzas braided into rhyme.
In English such tight chains are not the norm!
The poet starts by telling of a time
When he was wandering in a darkened wood,
And found a hole, and made a downward climb.
So soon enough it turned out that he stood
Before the undelightful gates of Hell.
You might thing going in would not be good,
But he persisted, and he lived to tell
The story of his journey in a poem.
This happened once or twice to me as well,
But I kept quiet after I got home.