Poetry Archives

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
 A lamp within a vase light up its gloom,
 So God’s voice lighted him, from heel to plume:
“Let there be light!” It said, and Darkness, quelled,
 Shrunk noiseless backward in her monstrous womb
Through vasts unwinnowed by the wings of eld!