THE ANGEL
Soft singing at midnight through heaven's high blue
A beautiful angel once flew;
The moon and the stars and the clouds in a throng
Attended his wonderful song!
He sang of the bliss of those gardens and coasts
Where live and exult the pure ghosts,
Their songs glad extolling Almighty's grace
Repeated from race unto race.
In his arms he was bearing a young soul below,
To leave in this world of our woe,
The strains of his singing within her soul beat—
A wordless song, living and sweet!
Long languished her soul in its earthly abode,
With a heavenly longing o'erflowed,
For ne'er were those holy, pure strains of her birth,
Effaced by the songs of the earth.