"The Angel Israfel, whose heart-strings are a lute, and who has the sweetest voice of all God's creatures." Spirt of fire and dew Embodied anew. Thou art a faun o' the wood, A sprite o' the flood, Not of the world understood. Voice that is heard from afar, Voice of the soul of a star. From thy cloud in the azure above 'Tis thy song that awakeneth love— Love that invites and awe that retards— Blesséd art thou among bards! My astral is there where thou art, Soul of my soul, heart of my heart! Unworthy, ill-done, incomplete, This scroll at thy feet. |