 | The Marriage Before Death, And Other Poems |  |
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XVII.—AN ANGEL.
Slowly and white the first sweet angel came
Towards me in heaven, and held within her hands
A garland woven of white violet-bands,
With one rose in the centre like a flame.
It seemed a fit return of love and fame—
Meet recompence for wanderings o'er the sands
Of lonely earth, and toil in desert lands—
Ready I was the blossom-wreath to claim.
Towards me in heaven, and held within her hands
A garland woven of white violet-bands,
With one rose in the centre like a flame.
It seemed a fit return of love and fame—
Meet recompence for wanderings o'er the sands
Of lonely earth, and toil in desert lands—
Ready I was the blossom-wreath to claim.
But, when I touched it, all the wondrous smell
Of those white violets brought the earth again
Before me, and it was as if there fell
Upon the ground soft showers of spring-like rain—
And the angel was the rose too sweet to tell
I' the centre: just a woman, white thro' pain.
Of those white violets brought the earth again
Before me, and it was as if there fell
Upon the ground soft showers of spring-like rain—
And the angel was the rose too sweet to tell
I' the centre: just a woman, white thro' pain.
| The Marriage Before Death, And Other Poems | |