(Suggested by a Fra Angelico Angel)
Angel of Thought, meseems God winged thee so,
And crowned thine head with passion fine as flame,
And made thy lifted face too pure for shame,
With eyes and brow a mirror to His glow;--
And gave thy lips a golden trump, that, though
Long years have passed since other angels came
To work the mighty wonders of His name,--
In God's own name and man's, thyself shalt go
Forever on strong pinions to and fro,
And round the earth reverberating blow
The mute, world-shaking music of the mind;
That thou might'st make as naught all space and time,
And thrill in mystic oneness through mankind,
Yet dwell in each, inviolate, sublime.