Within the fires are the spirits The gong upon our anvil As such arms can only be made in Heaven.
Of various persons each known to his part Distinct are the Poet and the Dreamer And so I was Gods ape, Piety so chaste I hold it half a sin Entering the cold broken world Thus Adam lamented to himself aloud.
"No coward soul is mine What will come at last too soon For honour bit-wize travels Unwinking on this fair ship 'Life'".
But there was resistance involved The swift blazing flag of regiment As bare as a birds tail To make a clean breast The iron entered my soul.
I pray you The earthly bribble-brabble A veil for the glory of Angels Lest evil tidings to utter To turn and face them And see ones self Not to be lost but by the makers hand.