Explore "The Angel" by Virna Sheard on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Down the white ward with slow, unswerving tread / He came ere break of day -- / A cowl was drawn about his down-bent head, / His misty robes were grey.
And no man even knew that he went by, / None saw or heard him pass; / Softly he moved as clouds drift down the sky, / Or shadows cross the grass.