This Angel
The softest down is nothing when contrasted
To angels' wing, even in roughest form.
The whitest snow or ivory is slighted,
When behold the angels' skin, glowing and warm.
Inimitable symphonies could never capture
The elegance of the sweet angelic voice,
For hearts are brought to everlasting rapture
O'r angels' sound, when compelled to rejoice.
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