A Flight from Glory

Once, from the parapet of gems and glow,
An Angel said, " O God, the heart grows cold
On these eternal battlements of gold,
Where all is pure, but cold as virgin snow.
Here sobs are never heard ; no salt tears flow ;
Here there are none to help — nor sick nor old;
No wrong to fight, no justice to uphold :
Grant me Thy leave to live man's life below."
" And then annihilation ? " God replied.
" Yes," said the Angel, " even that dread price ;
For earthly tears are worth eternal night."
" Then go," said God. — The Angel opened wide
His dazzling wings, gazed back on Heaven thrice,
And plunged for ever from the walls of Light.