Lloyd Mifflin

(1896-1921 / United States)

Fiat Lux

Then that dread angel near the awful throne,
   Leaving the seraphs ranged in flaming tiers,
   Winged his dark way through those unpinioned spheres,
And on the void's black beetling edge, alone,
Stood with raised wings, and listened for the tone
   Of God's command to reach his eager ears,
   While Chaos wavered, for she felt her years
Unsceptered now in that convulsive zone.
Night trembled. And as one hath oft beheld

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