LOUD roared the tempest, br Fast fell the sleet; br A little Child Angel br Passed down the street, br With trailing pinions br And weary feet. br br The moon was hidden; br No stars were bright; br So she could not shelter br In heaven that night, br For the Angels’ ladders br Are rays of light. br br She beat her wings br At each windowpane, br And pleaded for shelter, br But all in vain;— br “Listen,” they said, br “To the pelting rain!” br br She sobb’d, as the laughter br And mirth grew higher, br “Give me rest and shelter br Beside your fire, br And I will give you br Your heart’s desire.” br br The dreamer sat watching br His embers gleam, br While his heart was floating br Down hope’s bright stream; br …So he wove her wailing br Into his dream. br br The worker toil’d on, br For his time was brief; br The mourner was nursing br Her own pale grief; br They heard not the promise br That brought relief. br br But fiercer the tempest br Rose than before, br When the Angel paus’d br At a humble door, br And ask’d for shelter br And help once more. br br A weary woman, br Pale, worn, and thin, br With the brand upon her br Of want and sin, br Heard the Child Angel br And took her in: br br Took her in gently, br And did her best br To dry her pinions; br And made her rest br With tender pity br Upon her breast. br br When the eastern morning br Grew bright and red, br Up the first sunbeam br The Angel fled; br Having kiss’d the woman br And left her—dead.