Good Intentions

The road to hell is paved with good intentions,
Which makes it rather difficult to walk;
For though there are all manner of inventions,
Of which the cognoscenti love to talk,
Not one of them has ever heard tell of
A way to make a sidewalk from a thought.
It isn't that you cannot tread on love,
Or stamp it underfoot; but how's it wrought
Into a constant and consistent matter
For all the souls that traipse their way to hell?
It ought to be a more inconstant batter
On which they slip and slide - and then you'd tell
That you were going thither. Hell should pave
Its way with stones - just like they do the grave.