A FALLEN ANGEL

Out of the light, Into the night, God, I am falling! Fashioned of flame, Spent with my shame, God, I am calling!

All through the day Sin has had sway— Lost is the token; Evening brings Hurt of my wings, Blackened and broken.

Child of a star, Thine avatar, Drunk from the revel; Who am I, God,— Spirit or clod, Angel or devil?

Yet Thou hast made Me Thy sword-blade— Sheathed, that its brightness Flash up to win, When the last sin Burns into whiteness.

Hand that can smite, Hold the hilt tight, Draw, and strike faster! Strike with me, Lord! My soul Thy sword, And Thou its Master.

Strike! till the day Grow from the gray Gloom of the peril; And in the skies Dream-domes arise— Jacinth and beryl!