Torn from a seraph's wing in sinful weather,

Down-drifting from the portals

Of Paradise, unto the land of mortals.

Yet do I feel thee awing

My heart with mystery, as thy updrawing

Moves thro' the tides of Ocean

And leaves lorn beaches barren of its motion;

[Pg 26]

Or strands upon near shallows

The wreck whose weirded form at night unhallows

The fisher maiden's prayers—

"For him!—that storms may take not unawares!"

So wan, so unavailing,

Across the vacant day-blue dimly trailing!

But Night shall come atoning

Thy phantom life thro' day, and high enthroning

Thee in her chambers arrased

With star-hieroglyphs, leave thee unharassed

To glide with silvery passion,

Till in earth's shadow swept thy glowings ashen.

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