ON the mountain side they fashion,
Those rifting shreds of storm,
A figure of strange passion,
A winged and sworded form.
Majestic, wild, colossal,
With angry arm thrown high;
Those swaying shoulders jostle
The glory from the sky.
Then flows the happy hour.
That tyrant of the mist
Turns to a wavering tower
And melts in amethyst,
Foretelling thus the cycle
- O speed it, Holy Dove!-
When the Archangel Michael
Shall vanish into Love.
Mist
Katharine Lee Bates
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Poem topics: happy, passion, sky, wild, tower, storm, dove, angry, fashion, speed, mountain, holy, high, thrown, majestic, strange, love, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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AnnaEmbroideryCraft: This is beautiful Katharine.
"Even before He made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be Holy and without fault in His eyes."
The trumpet sounds, and we are raised with Christ. Halleluiah!
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