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 bear

To see him issue from the silent air

At evening in our room, and bend on ours

His divine eyes, and bring us from his bowers

News of dear friends, and children who have never

Been dead indeed,—as we shall know forever.

Alas! we think not what we daily see

About our hearths,—angels that are to be,

Or may be if they will, and we prepare

Their souls and ours to meet in happy air;—

A child, a friend, a wife whose soft heart sings

In unison with ours, breeding its future wings.