Passion Flowers (Watson)/In Quest of the Angels
In Quest of the Angels.
"Oh! wist ye whither went they? The joyous angel throng—Who sang to the list'ning heavens Their wonderful Christmas song?Oh! wist ye whither went they? Cleaving the ambient light—When the stars grew pale as 'neath a veil With the flash of wings in flight?
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"Oh! one went northward flying, E'en now may ye catch the gleamOf the trailing line of glory, Like the sweep of a golden stream.And one went floating southward, Wings steeped in a rare perfume,The song to take and the world to wake Where endless summers bloom.
"Another swift to eastward— Faint rays shot up the sky,Across the sentient heavens There passed a gladsome cry,And one turned off, still singing, To the crimson flushing west,As precious dews—the priceless news He carried to the blest.
"Another there was whose pinions Were lifted for farther sweep,In upward widening circles They cleft the azure deep:To those in the Beautiful City, In Paradise he sped,They'd waited long for the joyous song Which should glad the souls of the dead."
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"Oh! search I've made to northward, But the angel was not there.I only heard in the silence One note so rich and rare. It e'en must have been an echo Of song which had swept the place,And it seemed to me, as it might be, Of a seraph's voice a trace.
"And search I've made to southward, I looked where white and red,In wanton joy of living, The rose its petals shed.'Twas the haunt of delight and beauty, And joy was abroad in the land,But I found not there, though I sought with care, E'en one of the angel band.
"And then I turned, sore longing— So gladly would I goWhere the happy dead are list'ning To the song which must banish woe—But the gate of that land, it was fastened, I could only see from afarThe faintest gleam of a silver beam As loosed from a distant star.
"My soul it was faint and weary As I thought me of the west,Soft shadows fell with the evening Like a benison of rest.But I heard, as it were, the quiver Of pinions swift in flight,While the air around was a-thrill with sound Which had drifted from a height.
"Oh! whither, whither, went they? May the world not gaze againOn those who sang when the heavens rang With Peace and good will to men?"
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"They bide in the earth, yet mortals May not see them face to face,It is only given the faithful Their blissful steps to trace.Look on such as are burdened, Who walk grief's path along,Who smile, but bend 'neath the yoke the while— Be sure they've heard the song.
"And look to the bed of anguish, On those who serve and pray,Forgetting self—the footsteps Of the angels went that way.Where'er love seeks the fallen Or comforts the sick and sad,'Tis there has been seen and heard, I ween, Full oft the tidings glad.
"The search leads ever upward, Through doubts mayhap and fear,For the way is girt with shadows, And dimmed with many a tear.Not here shalt thou see the angels, But this great boon may win,Though faint and weak, to follow meek, Along the path they've been."