Angel of the night

I dream'd there would be Spring no more,

That Nature's ancient power was lost:

The streets were black with smoke and frost,

They chatter'd trifles at the door:

I wander'd from the noisy town,

I found a wood with thorny boughs:

I took the thorns to bind my brows,

I wore them like a civic crown:

I met with scoffs, I met with scorns

From youth and babe and hoary hairs:

They call'd me in the public squares

The fool that wears a crown of thorns:

They call'd me fool, they call'd me child:

I found an Angel of the night;

The voice was low, the look was bright:

He look'd upon my crown and smiled:

He reach'd the glory of a hand,

That seem'd to touch it into leaf:

The voice was not the voice of grief,

The words were hard to understand.