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Poem by Charles Heavysege
The Fallen Angels
'Twas on a day, and in high, radiant heaven, An angel lay beside a lake reclined, Against whose shores the rolling waves were driven, And beat the measure to the dancing wind. There, rapt, he meditated on that story Of how Jehovah did of yore expel Heaven's aborigines from grace and gloryЧ Those mighty angels that did dare rebel. And, as he mused upon their dread abode And endless penance, from his drooping hands His harp down sank, and scattered all abroad Its rosy garland on the golden sands; His soul mute wondering that the All-wise Spirit Should have allowed the doom of such demerit.
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