God permits industrious angels Afternoons to play. I met one, -- forgot my school-mates, All, for him, straightway. . God calls home the angels promptly At the setting sun; I missed mine. How dreary the marbles, After playing Crown! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MA LADY'S LIPS AM LIKE DE HONEY (NEGRO LOVE SONG) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE SEASONS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON ITALIAN PICTURES: THE COSTA SAN GIORGIO by MINA LOY THE NIGHT MOTHS by EDWIN MARKHAM OCTAVES: 12 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |