Cary Briel

Come and play with me, said I,
Come and frolic, but don’t ask why;
I tempted her to climb and stay,
To leave him dead along the way;

Oh Satan!
Give him what he asks,
Drunk on wine from cedar casks;

Let’s anger God, just you and I,
From our high perch where vultures fly,
Where lowly beast can hardly see,
The whitened sight of you and me;

Oh Satan!
Give him what he asks,
Drunk on wine from cedar casks;

Islands, mountains beautiful,
Bodies covered, cloud white wool;
Angels ready, strong to bear,
Steepled jumpers all prepare;

Oh Satan!
Give him what he asks,
Drunk on wine from cedar casks.

Love does visit poor and rich,
By angeled wings on firstborn sight,
When Jacob’s kingdomed angels switch,
And whitened fields be turned to blight;

And, ah! The people on the right,
Who busy going to and fro,
Behold the angel in clear sight,
His cloudy secret, fiery glow;

And, ah! The people on the left,
Who seek the wolf of hurtless lore,
Within a world that seems bereft
Of love- as five remembers four;

Faint is heard below the noise
Of preparations long in wait,
In many mansions wait the boys,
The cries of those outside the gate;

Faint is heard below the noise
Of celebration of the last,
The cries of first- remiss of joys,
Enduring chafe of winter’s blast.