Poems (Chitwood)/The Guardian Angel

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
4642845Poems — The Guardian AngelMary Louisa Chitwood
THE GUARDIAN ANGEL.
They said he was alone;
The thin, frail hand that gently held his own
  Came not to their dim sight.
They often wondered what sweet spell he kept,
When o'er his face a sudden radiance crept,
  As though his eyes were looking toward the light.

And to the outward view,
There was no brightness all his life-way thro';
  No slightest shreds of love
Bound his lone heart to any throbbing mate—
Orphaned and homeless, friendless, desolate,
  Upon life's waters wild a wandering dove.

But oh, not so, not so,
He heard a music they could never know
  Whose scorn was on his head;
As the soft mist of summer's morning bright,
About his way there seemed a ridge of light,
  From some sapphirian censer softly shed.

At times he heard the rings,
As though a pair of white, invisible wings
  Were folded o'er his head;
He felt the claspings of a gentle hand,
And journeyed on toward the unseen land,
  With sweet heart-sheltered prayers to words unwed.

With this celestial guide—
This quiet foot-fall ever by his side,
  Life's bitterest woes were small.
Though smiles and loving words were not for him,
And want's black cup was filled up to its brim
  The joy within his heart could cancel all.

No sigh, no sad complaint
Escaped the lips of this poor pilgrim saint,
  From weary day to day;
They did not know, that, blessed and sin forgiven,
His little feet were journeying near to heaven,
  Where tears are ever, ever wiped away.

Once, when his golden locks
Straightened with dew the while he watched his flocks,
  And Night put on her crown,
He sat alone,—his heart within him stirred
To a sweet music until then unheard,
  As though some seraph's harp sent echoes down.

And to his fading eyes
There seemed an angel walking down the skies,
  With a calm smile of love.
His pale face glowed with a celestial fire;
He heard a sweet voice, saying, "Come up higher;
  Come to the ark of peace, poor wandering dove."

Dawn came; they found him there,
The dew-drops melting on his rippled hair—
  Smiles on the upturned face;
The azure eyes. whose brightness scarce was hid,
Looked heavenward still from each pure waxen lid—
  They knew he slept in some fair saint's embrace.

Said they, with whispers light,
"The Chaldean shepherds watched their flocks by night,—
  An angel came to them;
And this sweet child with smiles upon his brow,
Our hardened hearts do inly envy now,
  For he hath seen the Babe of Bethlehem."