AWHILE I dreamed: to me an angel came,

Bright with the glory of the dawn's first flame;

But as he paus'd ever beside him stood

A ghastly spectre, grim in robe and hood.

The first one brought a wondrous sense of peace,

As if his voice could bid all sorrow cease.

He wore immortal roses in his hair,

And when he smiled I knew how heaven was fair.

The second, scowling, as he hurried past

Athwart the sun a blighting shadow cast;

And where he walked, with grim averted head,

The very grass had withered 'neath his tread.

"Who art thou? say!" unto the first I cried.

"I am God's servant, Death," soft tones replied.

"And that dread shape which ever walks with thee?"

"That is, alas! man's fearful dream of me."