MY passion was an angel veiled in grey,
She stood and dreamed apart on shadowy ground,
So still she was she stirred not night or day
In those dim hills her timorous feet had found;
My passion was an angel veiled in grey
Until she fled you down the immortal way.
My passion was an angel clad in white,
Her glistening wings were spread to sweep the skies,
The eternal gates were opened at her flight,
Wet with the unshaken dews of paradise;
Till God, Who had no pity for her peace,
Closed all the heavenly roads of her release.
My passion was an angel wrapt in fire,
Outcast from heaven and pilgrim from her birth,
About her flamed the torches of desire
That left no streams of healing on the earth;
Till God said she should die for pity's sake--
My angel neither heaven nor earth would take.
My angel who is dead you shall not see,
Nor how your name is scarred upon her breast,
Scorched on her whiteness for eternity,
Your tenderest name that burnt her into rest;
My angel that you killed you shall not see,
Shrouded and still she lies 'twixt you and me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem