From the Coptic by Stevie Smith

Three angels came to the red red clay Where in a heap it formless lay,

Stand up, stand up, thou lazy clay, Stand up and be Man this happy day.

Oh in it bones the red clay groaned, And why should I do such a thing? it said, And take such a thing on my downy head? Then the first angel stood forth and said,

Thou shalt have happiness, thou shalt have pain, And each shall fall turn and about again, And no man shall say when the day shall fall That thou shalt be happy or not at all.

And the second angel said much the same While the red clay lay flat in the falling rain, Crying, I will stay clay and take no blame.

Then the third angel rose up and said, Listen thou clay, raise thy downy head, When thou hast heard what I have to say Thou shalt rise Man and go man's way.

What have you to promise? the red clay moans, What have you in store for my future bones? I am Death, said the angel, and death is the end, I am Man, cries clay rising, and you are my friend.