Colin F. Jones

THREE ANGELS

Two angels in his mind stand made,
One bathed in light the other in shade;
Each with a role for each good eye
Through which to peer and qualify.
Yet one sees black and one sees white,
One approves of day, the other night.
What of the eye not in the head,
The eye of the Angel who is dead?
For rampant on request each one,
The opposite the other will have done.
That never can there be true peace
Lest one or the other sets to cease.
For the third Angel, absent from the head,
Should have been made in place of the two instead.