THE ANGEL OF THOUGHT

Angel of Thought, meseems God winged thee so,

And crowned thine head with passion fine as flame,

And made thy lifted face too pure for shame,

With eyes and brow a mirror to His glow;—

And gave thy lips a golden trump, that, though

Long years have passed since other angels came

To work the mighty wonders of His name,—

In God's own name and man's, thyself shalt go

Forever on strong pinions to and fro,

And round the earth reverberating blow

The mute, world-shaking music of the mind;

That thou might'st make as naught all space and time,

And thrill in mystic oneness through mankind,

Yet dwell in each, inviolate, sublime.