| WHY dost thou bear me aloft, | |
| O Angel of God, on thy pinions | |
| O’er realms and dominions? | |
| Softly I float as a cloud | |
| In air, for thy right hand upholds me, | 5 |
| Thy garment enfolds me! | |
| |
ANGEL. Lo! as I passed on my way | |
| In the harvest-field I beheld thee, | |
| When no man compelled thee, | |
| Bearing with thine own hands | 10 |
| This food to the famishing reapers, | |
| A flock without keepers! | |
| |
| The fragrant sheaves of the wheat | |
| Made the air above them sweet; | |
| Sweeter and more divine | 15 |
| Was the scent of the scattered grain, | |
| That the reaper’s hand let fall | |
| To be gathered again | |
| By the hand of the gleaner! | |
| Sweetest, divinest of all, | 20 |
| Was the humble deed of thine, | |
| And the meekness of thy demeanor! | |
| |
PROPHET. Angel of Light, | |
| I cannot gainsay thee, | |
| I can but obey thee! | 25 |
| |
ANGEL. Beautiful was it in the Lord’s sight, | |
| To behold his Prophet | |
| Feeding those that toil, | |
| The tillers of the soil. | |
| But why should the reapers eat of it | 30 |
| And not the Prophet of Zion | |
| In the den of the lion? | |
| The Prophet should feed the Prophet! | |
| Therefore I thee have uplifted, | |
| And bear thee aloft by the hair | 35 |
| Of thy head, like a cloud that is drifted | |
| Through the vast unknown of the air! | |
| |
| Five days hath the Prophet been lying | |
| In Babylon, in the den | |
| Of the lions, death-defying, | 40 |
| Defying hunger and thirst; | |
| But the worst | |
| Is the mockery of men! | |
| Alas! how full of fear | |
| Is the fate of Prophet and Seer! | 45 |
| Forevermore, forevermore, | |
| It shall be as it hath been heretofore; | |
| The age in which they live | |
| Will not forgive | |
| The splendor of the everlasting light, | 50 |
| That makes their foreheads bright, | |
| Nor the sublime | |
| Fore-running of their time! | |
| |
PROPHET. Oh tell me, for thou knowest, | |
| Wherefore and by what grace, | 55 |
| Have I, who am least and lowest, | |
| Been chosen to this place, | |
| To this exalted part? | |
| |
ANGEL. Because thou art | |
| The Struggler; and from thy youth | 60 |
| Thy humble and patient life | |
| Hath been a strife | |
| And battle for the Truth; | |
| Nor hast thou paused nor halted, | |
| Nor ever in thy pride | 65 |
| Turned from the poor aside, | |
| But with deed and word and pen | |
| Hast served thy fellow-men; | |
| Therefore art thou exalted! | |
| |
PROPHET. By thine arrow’s light | 70 |
| Thou goest onward through the night, | |
| And by the clear | |
| Sheen of thy glittering spear! | |
| When will our journey end? | |
| |
ANGEL. Lo, it is ended! | 75 |
| Yon silver gleam | |
| Is the Euphrates’ stream. | |
| Let us descend | |
| Into the city splendid, | |
| Into the City of Gold! | 80 |
| |
PROPHET. Behold! | |
| As if the stars had fallen from their places | |
| Into the firmament below, | |
| The streets, the gardens, and the vacant spaces | |
| With light are all aglow; | 85 |
| And hark! | |
| As we draw near, | |
| What sound is it I hear | |
| Ascending through the dark? | |
| |
ANGEL. The tumultuous noise of the nations, | 90 |
| Their rejoicings and lamentations, | |
| The pleadings of their prayer, | |
| The groans of their despair, | |
| The cry of their imprecations. | |
| Their wrath, their love, their hate! | 95 |
| |
PROPHET. Surely the world doth wait | |
| The coming of its Redeemer! | |
| |
ANGEL. Awake from thy sleep, O dreamer! | |
| The hour is near, though late; | |
| Awake! write the vision sublime, | 100 |
| The vision, that is for a time, | |
| Though it tarry, wait; it is nigh; | |
| In the end it will speak and not lie. | |
| |
