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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 435 |
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LIONEL JOHNSON (1867-1902)
THE DARK ANGEL
D
ARK Angel, with thine aching lust To rid the world of penitence : Malicious Angel, who still dost My soul such subtile violence !
Because of thee, no thought, no thing,
Abides for me undesecrate : Dark Angel, ever on the wing,
Who never reachest me too late!
When music sounds, then changest thou
Its silvery to a sultry fire; Nor will thine envious heart allow
Delight untortured by desire.
Through thee, the gracious Muses turn
To Furies, O mine Enemy ! And all the things of beauty burn
With flames of evil ecstasy.
Because of thee, the land of dreams Becomes a gathering-place of fears;
Until tormented slumber seems One vehemence of useless tears. |
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