(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.