An angel saw me sitting by a brook, br Pleased with the silence, and the melodies br Of wind and water which did fall and rise: br He gently stirred his plumes and from them shook br An outworn doubt, which fell on me and took br The shape of darkness, hiding all the skies, br Blinding the sun, but giving to my eyes br An inextinguishable wish to look; br When, lo! thick as the buds of spring there came, br Crowd upon crowd, informing all the sky, br A host of splendours watching silently, br With lustrous eyes that wept as if in blame, br And waving hands that crossed in lines of flame, br And signalled things I hope to hold although I die!br br George MacDonaldbr br