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An Ideal Post by :goldsto Category :Poems Author :Adelaide Anne Procter Date :August 2011 Read :2094

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An Ideal

While the grey mists of early dawn
Were lingering round the hill,
And the dew was still upon the flowers,
And the earth lay calm and still,
A winged Spirit came to me
Noble, and radiant, and free.

Folding his blue and shining wings,
He laid his hand on mine.
I know not if I felt, or heard
The mystic word divine,
Which woke the trembling air to sighs,
And shone from out his starry eyes.

The word he spoke, within my heart
Stirred life unknown before,
And cast a spell upon my soul
To chain it evermore;
Making the cold dull earth look bright,
And skies flame out in sapphire light.

When noon ruled from the heavens, and man
Through busy day toiled on,
My Spirit drooped his shining wings;
His radiant smile was gone;
His voice had ceased, his grace had flown,
His hand grew cold within my own.

Bitter, oh bitter tears, I wept,
Yet still I held his hand,
Hoping with vague unreasoning hope:
I would not understand
That this pale Spirit never more
Could be what he had been before.

Could it be so? My heart stood still.
Yet he was by my side.
I strove; but my despair was vain;
Vain, too, was love and pride.
Could he have changed to me so soon?
My day was only at its noon.

Now stars are rising one by one,
Through the dim evening air;
Near me a household Spirit waits,
With tender loving care;
He speaks and smiles, but never sings,
Long since he lost his shining wings.

With thankful, true content, I know
This is the better way;
Is not a faithful spirit mine--
Mine still--at close of day? . . .
Yet will my foolish heart repine
For that bright morning dream of mine.

(The end)
Adelaide Anne Procter's poem: Ideal

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Nothing is our own: we hold our pleasuresJust a little while, ere they are fled:One by one life robs us of our treasures;Nothing is our own except our Dead.They are ours, and hold in faithful keepingSafe for ever, all they took away.Cruel life can never stir that sleeping,Cruel time can never seize that prey.Justice pales; truth fades; stars fall from Heaven;Human are the great whom we revere:No true crown of honour can be given,Till we place it on a funeral bier.How the Children leave us: and no tracesLinger of that smiling angel band;Gone, for ever gone; and in their places,Weary men

Psalm 98:1 First Part (to Our Almighty Maker, God) Psalm 98:1 First Part (to Our Almighty Maker, God)

Psalm 98:1 First Part (to Our Almighty Maker, God)
Praise for the gospel.To our almighty Maker, God,New honours be address'd;his great salvation shines abroad,And makes the nations blest.He spake the word to Abraham first,His truth fulfils the grace:The Gentiles make his Name their trust,And learn his righteousness.Let the whole earth his love proclaimWith all her different tongues;And spread the honours of his NameIn melody and songs.(The end)Isaac Watts's poem: Psalm 98:1 First Part To Our Almighty Maker, God)