Rebel Angel
Published by Webmaster on 07/30/2003 (3625 reads)If ever I am angel bright
With golden wings to fit,
I'll pluck from one a feather light
And make a pen of it;
And write a verse of nobler worth
Than I composed on earth.
What shall it Be? I do not know -
But of weariness and woe,
Of earth-folk downward driven;
Of ruthless martyrdom of man,
Since human life began.
Of those first children of the night
In caves of bitter bale,
Who fought their way up to the Light,
Through filth and cold and ail;
Whose depth of pain was all their measure,
And lack of pain their pleasure.
Our ancestors who knew not tears
And had no heart for grief;
Who thought old age was thirty years,
And bore beyond belief
A suffering that men today
Seek morphine to allay.
And unto HIM who rules on high,
Whose face I may not see,
With indignation I would cry:
"Why had this blight to be?
Aeons of agony to pass
Till champagne brim the glass!"
Then would the Lord of Heaven say:
"Why should this bard rebel?"
And send me downward straight away
To plumb the depths of hell.
But I would rather languish there
Than know in Paradise despair
For all the darkness and the dearth,
The Hell of sons of Earth.
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