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 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
A FALLEN ANGEL.
“The other evening a girl of about 17, with a sweet voice and
a face like an angel's, offered me her younger sister, assuring me
that the child was a ---.” Letter from a Friend.
Beautiful, as treads the day
Through the purple courts of light—
Beautiful, as is the way
Of an angel through the night—
Pure and pleasant to the sight,
Crownèd with a heavenly ray,
Glorifying alleys gray,
Where the knowledge is not might,
And even hope has taken flight—
Forth she stept, from meaner clay,
From the horror and the blight,
Clasping hands that seemed to pray.
Through the purple courts of light—
Beautiful, as is the way
Of an angel through the night—
Pure and pleasant to the sight,
Crownèd with a heavenly ray,
Glorifying alleys gray,
Where the knowledge is not might,
And even hope has taken flight—
Forth she stept, from meaner clay,
From the horror and the blight,
Clasping hands that seemed to pray.
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Was she human, or a guest
From the splendours of the sky,
Who would render bright and blest
Cursèd haunts, where demous ply
Dirty work, as pigs in sty?
Had she fluttered from her nest,
Hunting food, or seeking rest,
Ere her tender wings could fly,
Wandering she recked not why?
Oh, by love her bosom prest,
Craved for hearts with hunger's cry,
Refuge from the ravening pest.
From the splendours of the sky,
Who would render bright and blest
Cursèd haunts, where demous ply
Dirty work, as pigs in sty?
Had she fluttered from her nest,
Hunting food, or seeking rest,
Ere her tender wings could fly,
Wandering she recked not why?
Oh, by love her bosom prest,
Craved for hearts with hunger's cry,
Refuge from the ravening pest.
Then she spoke with murmur sweet,
Words that fell as falling rain,
When the shine and shadow meet,
Just to kiss and part again—
Part with tears, but without pain;
Was it message, sent to greet
Earthly form with weary feet,
In a world of sordid gain,
And to soothe the bitter stain?
Thus the labour were not vain,
If though for a moment fleet,
Heaven looked down upon the chain.
Words that fell as falling rain,
When the shine and shadow meet,
Just to kiss and part again—
Part with tears, but without pain;
Was it message, sent to greet
Earthly form with weary feet,
In a world of sordid gain,
And to soothe the bitter stain?
Thus the labour were not vain,
If though for a moment fleet,
Heaven looked down upon the chain.
Was it fancy? Did I dream?
Had my reason fled its throne?
Was that grace a mocking beam,
Playing on a breast of stone,
Which from fires infernal shone?—
Out of fairness without seam,
Pure as starlight on a stream,
Sighed in soft and silvery tone,
Offer, as to dogs a bone,—
Sighed from lips of scarlet gleam—
Virtue of a child left lone,
None to hear the outrage scream.
Had my reason fled its throne?
Was that grace a mocking beam,
Playing on a breast of stone,
Which from fires infernal shone?—
Out of fairness without seam,
Pure as starlight on a stream,
Sighed in soft and silvery tone,
Offer, as to dogs a bone,—
Sighed from lips of scarlet gleam—
Virtue of a child left lone,
None to hear the outrage scream.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |