The Guardian Angel Poem by Maria Gowen Brooks

'Call me no longer Hariph: I but took,
For love of that young pair, this mortal guise;
And often have I stood, beside Heaven's book,
And given in record there, their deeds and sighs.

'From infancy I've watch'd them, —far apart, —
Oppress'd by men and fiends; yet, form'd to dwell
Soul blent with soul, and beating heart 'gainst heart;
'T is done. — Behold the angel Raphael.

'That blest commission, friend of men, I bear,
To comfort those who undeservedly mourn;
And every good resolve, kind tear, heart-prayer,
'T is mine to show before the Eternal's throne.

'And oft I haste, and when the good and true
Are headlong urged to deep pollution, save;
Just as my wings receive some drops of dew,
Which else must join Asphaltites' black wave.'

He said; all o'er to radiant beauty warming,
While they, in doubt of what they look'd upon,
Beheld a form —dissolving — dazzling — charming —
But, ere their lips found utterance, it was gone.