An Angel in the House
How sweet it were, if without feeble fright,Or dying of the dreadful beauteous sight,An angel came to us, and we could bearTo see him issue from the silent airAt evening in our room, and bend on oursHis divine eyes, and bring us from his bowersNews of dear friends, and children who have neverBeen dead indeed,--as we shall know forever.Alas! we think not what we daily seeAbout our hearths,--angels that are to be,Or may be if they will, and we prepareTheir souls and ours to meet in happy air;--A child, a friend, a wife whose soft heart singsIn unison with ours, breeding its future wings.
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