Angels

The cage where he ate and slept

Was furnished with gems and flesh

So he would not bruise when he fell

Or his vision ever grow dull.

Garnets are brighter than angels,

He sang as he made his poems.

Garnets are brighter than angels,

He sang as he crushed his loins.

But how he loved the golden feathers

Which fluttered through the cage;

How he loved the golden shadows

When they covered up his face.