Poems (Taylor)/The Waiting Angel

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THE WAITING ANGEL
We are leaning through the roses
Mid the thrill of the sweet closes
 Of our tender violing.
Up and down, up and down
All the ways of our dream-town,
   Round a dragon-crested King,
Ride the noble knights of old,
All in azure, green, and gold.
We two cast them our dream-roses
Mid the sweetness of the closes
 Of our tender violing.

But I know, behind the star-lit
Dusk of emerald, a scarlet
 ​ Strange Archangel brooding stands.
Waiting still, waiting still,
Gazing with a mournful will
 At the sword within his hands.
Through the delicate green light
Winds the Pomp of our delight:
But I know behind the star-lit
Dusk of emerald, a scarlet
 Angel lifts his armed hands.

But when all the stars are weeping,
When my Well-beloved lies sleeping
 Softly I shall rise and go.
I shall wrestle with that dread
Angel of the bended head.
 "Death! Oh Death! Thy name I know.
Mock me not that I am frail.
 ​I am Love: I must prevail
Here, where all the stars are weeping."
When the Well-Beloved lies sleeping,
 Surely I shall rise and go.

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