The Angel

I DREAMT I saw an angel in the sky,

Her face was calm and fair up there on high;

She smiled at me—a strange and lovely smile

That had in it no thought of earthly guile.

She looked so fair, so strange and wondrous pure,

That ’twas an angel, I was passing sure;

She spoke—her voice was music in the air;

So sweet it was, it matched her person fair.

She asked me, “Is there aught that I can do?”

I humbly answered, “Make me fair as you.”

She smiled again, that strange unearthly smile,

That made all mundane things seem crude and vile—

“Thou art not ready yet,” she seemed to say

And with a sigh, she floated far away.