And amid the noise and confusion
Of wheels that were never still,
He heard the wind through the scented pines
On a rough, storm-beaten hill;
While, beyond a maze of painted threads,
Where his tireless shuttle flew,
In fancy he saw the sunlit waves
Beckon him out to the blue.
THE ANGEL
Down the white ward with slow, unswerving tread
He came ere break of day--
A cowl was drawn about his down-bent head,
His misty robes were grey.
And no man even knew that he went by,
None saw or heard him pass;
Softly he moved as clouds drift down the sky,
Or shadows cross the grass.
Close to a little bed where one lay low,
At last he took his stand,
And touched the head that tossed in restless woe
With gentle, outstretched hand.
"When bitterness," he said, "is at an end,
And joy grows far and dim,
I am the angel whom the Lord doth send
To lead men on to Him.
"Past the innumerable stars, my friend,
Past all the winds that blow,
We, too, must travel to our journey's end.
Arise! And let us go!"
"Stay! Stay!" the other cried. "I know thy face!
Death is thy dreaded name!"
"Nay--I am known as 'Love' in that far place,"
He said, "from whence I came.
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