SONNET 16
By JH
Sayyar
Yester night I saw a devil in my kip,
Sitting by my side whispers in the ear,
Gives a written bond me to grip,
Without soul, the catcher full of fear
Magic can perform miracles, all false,
As with waxen wings flying to the sun,
In such condition leave all saint-palls,
Then from the circle you cannot run.
Always magicians make happy devils;
They can’t touch body, the Magnus’ soul,
They are happy when the Magnus revels,
Then comes know you go out of goal.
Devils fear wisdom, love for ignorance,
Catch minds with promise maintenance.
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