 | English Roses |  |
THE STRAYED ANGEL.
He left alas! the door of Heaven ajar—
It was the watchman Peter,
Who wandered off to chat with Paul afar
How faith might grow completer;
If they could now decide which was the one
And only true proportion,
Without the least distortion,
Of faith and works whereby God's will was done;
And then and thus of course arose the fuss
Recorded in these pages,
When zeal misposed forgot the gate unclosed
To trouble meet for ages.
It was the watchman Peter,
Who wandered off to chat with Paul afar
How faith might grow completer;
If they could now decide which was the one
And only true proportion,
Without the least distortion,
Of faith and works whereby God's will was done;
And then and thus of course arose the fuss
Recorded in these pages,
When zeal misposed forgot the gate unclosed
To trouble meet for ages.
A little Angel who was tired of song
And praise for ever going
With innocence that did not dream of wrong
Came sweetly up tiptoeing;
And at a glance she saw no guardian grim
Was waiting at the portal,
That shut in the immortal—
No Porter hummed his solitary hymn;
And peeping out to satisfy her doubt
She felt a fatal wonder,
If other strains brought with them weary pains
In worlds outside and under.
And praise for ever going
With innocence that did not dream of wrong
Came sweetly up tiptoeing;
And at a glance she saw no guardian grim
Was waiting at the portal,
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No Porter hummed his solitary hymn;
And peeping out to satisfy her doubt
She felt a fatal wonder,
If other strains brought with them weary pains
In worlds outside and under.
Then forth she stept with finger to her lips
Right through the golden entry,
Regardless of the rules and danger slips
When she descried no sentry;
And wide she spread her pretty wings and Flew
Straight to the nearest planet,
And marvelled what began it
Or how to such surpassing grace it grew;
She travelled on, while glory shook and shone
From each white waving feather,
And all afire in infinite desire
With love she sailed together.
Right through the golden entry,
Regardless of the rules and danger slips
When she descried no sentry;
And wide she spread her pretty wings and Flew
Straight to the nearest planet,
And marvelled what began it
Or how to such surpassing grace it grew;
She travelled on, while glory shook and shone
From each white waving feather,
And all afire in infinite desire
With love she sailed together.
Until she saw a spark of emerald light
That trembled in the distance,
And though with rays refreshing to the sight
Seemed asking her assistance;
And in a moment she was there and came
Upon a moonbeam gliding
And in its silver hiding,
Robed in the shadow of her own pure shame;
For in the vast Expanse was rest at last,
And so she left her pinions
Just at the shore of Time, as none before
In quest of new dominions.
That trembled in the distance,
And though with rays refreshing to the sight
Seemed asking her assistance;
And in a moment she was there and came
Upon a moonbeam gliding
And in its silver hiding,
Robed in the shadow of her own pure shame;
For in the vast Expanse was rest at last,
And so she left her pinions
Just at the shore of Time, as none before
In quest of new dominions.
She touched the Earth and in a city dropt
Where men and beasts were sleeping,
And from the silence as awhile she stopt,
Went up the dirge of weeping;
What did it mean? For never had her ear
Met with the sound of sadness
Where life was love and gladness,
And all her bosom thrilled with sudden fear;
Till looking low and through the curtained glow
Whence rose the waft of crying,
She saw how cold amid a cloud of gold
A little babe was lying.
Where men and beasts were sleeping,
And from the silence as awhile she stopt,
Went up the dirge of weeping;
What did it mean? For never had her ear
Met with the sound of sadness
Where life was love and gladness,
And all her bosom thrilled with sudden fear;
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Whence rose the waft of crying,
She saw how cold amid a cloud of gold
A little babe was lying.
And a great pity filled the Angel's heart,
To mark that sorrow surging
Around one soul set as an isle apart
In a wide sea of scourging;
So in unseen she slipt with noiseless grace
And not a plume to rustle,
Too swift to make a bustle,
And lightly took the dear dead infant's place;
But then the hue flowed back in brighter blue
To eyes now full of blisses,
And lips rose-red with passion all unfed
Unclosed and asked for kisses.
To mark that sorrow surging
Around one soul set as an isle apart
In a wide sea of scourging;
So in unseen she slipt with noiseless grace
And not a plume to rustle,
Too swift to make a bustle,
And lightly took the dear dead infant's place;
But then the hue flowed back in brighter blue
To eyes now full of blisses,
And lips rose-red with passion all unfed
Unclosed and asked for kisses.
And the quick sense of higher things passed soon
Away with the broad vision,
Which swept through Mighty Space from sun to moon
And wrought of Time derision;
The splendour faded from the spirit now
That took a mortal vesture,
And every tiny gesture
Was human and to earth conformed the brow;
She learnt with years the tender use of tears,
And behind bars of clothing
To snatch as toys the glimpses of old joys,
And found a fresh betrothing.
Away with the broad vision,
Which swept through Mighty Space from sun to moon
And wrought of Time derision;
The splendour faded from the spirit now
That took a mortal vesture,
And every tiny gesture
Was human and to earth conformed the brow;
She learnt with years the tender use of tears,
And behind bars of clothing
To snatch as toys the glimpses of old joys,
And found a fresh betrothing.
And with the contact of our grosser air
Beneath the carnal sentence
She waxed less heavenly but O not less fair,
And smiled and sought repentance;
She showed the impress of her altered lot,
A different law and being,
And walked too much by seeing
Or here or there assumed a pretty spot;
But in the strife of this rude worldly life
She felt no hope arrested,
And never yearned for summits undiscerned
Or craved for wings divested.
Beneath the carnal sentence
She waxed less heavenly but O not less fair,
And smiled and sought repentance;
She showed the impress of her altered lot,
A different law and being,
And walked too much by seeing
Or here or there assumed a pretty spot;
But in the strife of this rude worldly life
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And never yearned for summits undiscerned
Or craved for wings divested.
The former fashion now was but a dream
That gave a moment's trouble,
A bit of sky just mirrored in the gleam
Upon a passing bubble;
She stretched new tendrils to the dew and light
With calm and free consenting,
Although a strange relenting
Stirred sometimes in her heart for upward flight;
And the sweet chime of recollected time
With its immortal message,
Rang in her mind with hopes and fears combined
Instead a glorious presage.
That gave a moment's trouble,
A bit of sky just mirrored in the gleam
Upon a passing bubble;
She stretched new tendrils to the dew and light
With calm and free consenting,
Although a strange relenting
Stirred sometimes in her heart for upward flight;
And the sweet chime of recollected time
With its immortal message,
Rang in her mind with hopes and fears combined
Instead a glorious presage.
She grew at length to hug the little stains
Of earthlier affection,
She revelled in her rose-hung prison chains
And chosen imperfection;
She quite forgot the tyranny of song,
And the perpetual praising
Of voices still upraising
The same one endless theme she bore so long;
Though casual keys that rattled made a breeze
Within her of quaint terror,
And the mere name of Peter woke the shame
Of unremembered error.
Of earthlier affection,
She revelled in her rose-hung prison chains
And chosen imperfection;
She quite forgot the tyranny of song,
And the perpetual praising
Of voices still upraising
The same one endless theme she bore so long;
Though casual keys that rattled made a breeze
Within her of quaint terror,
And the mere name of Peter woke the shame
Of unremembered error.
But O what evil through the unguarded door
Was done by careless Peter,
Who knew that angels from the crystal floor
Fell once, if now discreeter!
Yet no, for when they missed their little friend
And saw that outside glimmer,
Their sense of right grew dimmer,
They dared to play the truant and descend;
They took their harps of dulcet flats and sharps,
They spared no palm to flutter.
They packed their crowns and haloes and white gowns
And left the silence utter.
Was done by careless Peter,
Who knew that angels from the crystal floor
Fell once, if now discreeter!
Yet no, for when they missed their little friend
And saw that outside glimmer,
Their sense of right grew dimmer,
They dared to play the truant and descend;
They took their harps of dulcet flats and sharps,
They spared no palm to flutter.
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And left the silence utter.
Meanwhile the Two, who dwelt on high affairs,
Discussed the modes and measure
Of faith and works and creeds that begged repairs,
And argued at their pleasure;
The one indulged in learning and loud speech
And logic full of bristles
As crabbed as his epistles,
The other all a-flame did nought but preach;
They proved that faith was not an idle wraith,
Though works must make it stiffer,
But could not count to each the right amount
And so agreed to differ.
Discussed the modes and measure
Of faith and works and creeds that begged repairs,
And argued at their pleasure;
The one indulged in learning and loud speech
And logic full of bristles
As crabbed as his epistles,
The other all a-flame did nought but preach;
They proved that faith was not an idle wraith,
Though works must make it stiffer,
But could not count to each the right amount
And so agreed to differ.
They did not see the figures trooping by
Through that neglected doorsill,
In search of mischief and a lower sky
And just one luscious morsel;
They did not note the pulse of hurrying feet,
And hear a harp wire cracking
Or there the sound of packing,
And everywhere a movement shy and fleet;
They did not know the bait of things below,
And the forbidden apple
Might lure the Church from its celestial perch
To earth's poor vulgar chapel.
Through that neglected doorsill,
In search of mischief and a lower sky
And just one luscious morsel;
They did not note the pulse of hurrying feet,
And hear a harp wire cracking
Or there the sound of packing,
And everywhere a movement shy and fleet;
They did not know the bait of things below,
And the forbidden apple
Might lure the Church from its celestial perch
To earth's poor vulgar chapel.
But, when the Porter came to claim his own,
He found what never dreamt he;
For every bird had seized the chance and flown,
And the great Nest was empty;
He found no harp or even a golden string,
But one enormous feather—
For it was moulting weather—
From Gabriel's holy archangelic wing;
“Fret not,” said Paul, “Heaven is no place at all,
Ut aiunt docti semper,
But just a state of feeling and of fate—”
“Or,” Peter cried, “a Temper.”
He found what never dreamt he;
For every bird had seized the chance and flown,
And the great Nest was empty;
He found no harp or even a golden string,
But one enormous feather—
For it was moulting weather—
From Gabriel's holy archangelic wing;
“Fret not,” said Paul, “Heaven is no place at all,
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But just a state of feeling and of fate—”
“Or,” Peter cried, “a Temper.”
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