Anne Whitney

1821-1915

 

I dreamed an angel, Angel twice, through death...

by Anne Whitney

I dreamed an angel, Angel twice, through death,
Wrought us another Night. A stately dream,
Where reconciling Infinites did seem
To fold round life's perplexities, and wreath
Its ancient glooms with stars: -- a marble breath
From Art's serene, fresh, everlasting morn,
Where the dull worm of earthly pain is born
To winged life thenceforth, and busieth
With golden messages its mortal hours.
O the Divine, earth would have wronged and slain!
Its pangs are rays above her falling towers
Of lovelier truth -- breaths of a sweet disdain
Shedding strange nothingness on meaner pain,
Drops of the bleeding god that turn to flowers.

Source:

Poems
Copyright 1859
346 & 348 Broadway
D. Appleton & Company
New York
 

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