Love and beauty sweeten mortal being
And spice and ornament the lives of gods;
Without me, queen of both, brightly beaming
All chances at happiness face long odds
You complain that I stray from your embrace
But soot and fire compromise my charms;
Your forge can make an armored carapace
But foul and stinking are your sweaty arms
Consider how we divide means from ends:
‘Tis true, my way of making is not fair
But my will strongest iron quickly bends
My swords cause fearsome monsters to despair
Love and beauty both exhibit frailty
What I create has more utility
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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