Prayer.
111
That on the steps of the mad shriek that bore
Woe, horror, and defiance up to Heaven,
Followed with faint entreaty! That weak cry,
That mute despairing thing that from her heart
Scarce struggled to her lips, and there fell prone
As one across a threshold! Staggering on
With its pale hands uplift, closer it drew;
And, while she looked to see it thrust without
Into surrounding darkness, rapt and calm
Stood the ranked angels. Near, oh God, it came!
Then with the mien of her who touched His robe
When the crowd pressed Him, springing to the throne,
With a low cry fell prostrate!
In their sheaths
Why slept the keen swords of the cherubim?
Lo, every knee was bowed! round every brow
There bloomed fresh amaranth, from every lip
Burst such transcendent melody, the stars
Grew musical with its echoes, and dull earth
Dreamed of it in her slumber. Last of all
Rose that pale Form, and east the mantle back,
Woe, horror, and defiance up to Heaven,
Followed with faint entreaty! That weak cry,
That mute despairing thing that from her heart
Scarce struggled to her lips, and there fell prone
As one across a threshold! Staggering on
With its pale hands uplift, closer it drew;
And, while she looked to see it thrust without
Into surrounding darkness, rapt and calm
Stood the ranked angels. Near, oh God, it came!
Then with the mien of her who touched His robe
When the crowd pressed Him, springing to the throne,
With a low cry fell prostrate!
In their sheaths
Why slept the keen swords of the cherubim?
Lo, every knee was bowed! round every brow
There bloomed fresh amaranth, from every lip
Burst such transcendent melody, the stars
Grew musical with its echoes, and dull earth
Dreamed of it in her slumber. Last of all
Rose that pale Form, and east the mantle back,
