"THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE."

STILL in bed I found him lying

Whom I always love to see;

Haply he had feigned slumber

To another friend than me;

But as I was hesitating,

Quarrelling with my own heart,

Half unwilling to awake him,

All unwilling to depart, -

Called he me by name, and turning,

Let me take the wished-for place

By his bedside, leaning o'er him,

Circling him with large embrace.

Just above the snow-white linen

Cherub-like appeared his head,

Seeming like an infant angel

Lacking only wings out-spread;