Poems (Whitney)/Raphael mengs and his "holy family"
So reverently he treads This home where heaven is, That you the steps might hear Of the very angels near, Almost as soon as his,
Pure breathing of a soul Whose depths we only guess, Since unto it was given To know so much of heaven, So much he could express!
Gazing, the old ideal, Paler, more rapt and still, With sadly wondering eyes, Just dips from her far skies, And shames my laggard will.
Humility and love, Perfume of lowliest sod— I yet can think that they Winged our close world one day, And went untouched to God.