[CVI]. DAWN ANGELS.
A. Mary F. Robinson.—1856-
All night I watch'd, awake, for morning:
At last the East grew all aflame,
The birds for welcome sang, or warning,
And with their singing morning came.
Along the gold-green heavens drifted
Pale wandering souls that shun the light,
Whose cloudy pinions, torn and rifted,
Had beat the bars of Heaven all night.
These cluster'd round the Moon; but higher
A troop of shining spirits went,
Who were not made of wind or fire,
But some divine dream-element.
Some held the Light, while those remaining
Shook out their harvest-color'd wings,
A faint unusual music raining
(Whose sound was Light) on earthly things.
They sang, and as a mighty river
Their voices wash'd the night away:
From East to West ran one white shiver,
And waxen strong their song was Day.