Explore "Our Angel" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Upon a couch all robed by careful hands / For her repose, the maiden Mable lies, / Her long bright hair is braided in smooth bands -- / A mass of stranded gold, that mortal eyes / May, wondering, gaze upon a little while; / That mortal hands may touch a few times more.
Her placid lips part in a sweet, faint smile, / As if the glories of that mystic shore, / When first they fell upon her spirit eyes -- / All the rare splendors of that unseen way / Had touched her with a wondering, glad surprise, / And left the pleased expression on her clay.