(Angels) Blindly he worked

At his third invention

Taking the chances

Of one who is lost

Feeling his way

To a cleaner expression

Of whatever it was

He stumbled across



All for the sake

Of a possible woman

He goaded himself

With a technical hope



For the sake of his longing

We came to the window

He put on his cloths

And he walked through the smoke



All for the sake

Of an interested woman

Riding to him

On a flicker of hope



Some tourist of beauty

In full disappointment

Ready to fall

In love with a ghost



And here was his ghost

With his third invention

The usual claim

To the highest reward



And now it was ready

His third invention

Ready to fall

In love with the world



And he falls back

And she comes forward

The eye of his labour

Measures them both



And she lies in the arms

Of his third invention

And back in his room

He commences the fourth



This is the work

Of the highest pretension

An automatic

Ode to the world



O deep in comfort

O full employment

He's lost to the fourth

He's lost to the third.