Enlightenment

Have the scales that dimm’d thy vision
Fallen, Michael? Canst thou see
How they’re stealing in derision
All the choicest food from thee?

In return, divine enjoyment
Promise they in realms above,
Where the angels’ sole employment
Is to cook us fleshless love.

Michael, hath thy faith grown weaker,
Or thy appetite more strong?
Thou dost grasp life’s sparkling beaker,
And thou sing’st a hero-song.

Fear not, Michael! take thy pleasure
While on earth, and eat what’s good;
When thou’rt dead, thou’lt have full leisure
To digest in peace thy food.