poem.id,poem.ts,poem.title,poem.author,poem.content,poem.category_1_x_poem_id
21,"2018-02-27 21:05:35","The Angel","William Blake","I Dreamt a Dream! what can it mean?And that I was a maiden Queen:Guarded by an Angel mild;Witless woe, was neer beguil'd!And I wept both night and dayAnd he wip'd my tears awayAnd I wept both day and nightAnd hid from him my hearts delightSo he took his wings and fled:Then the morn blush'd rosy red:I dried my tears & armd my fears,With ten thousand shields and spears.Soon my Angel came again;I was arm'd, he came in vain:For the time of youth was fledAnd grey hairs were on my head","{
    ""21"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 21,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    }
}"
22,"2018-02-27 21:05:35","I Heard an Angel","William Blake","I heard an Angel singing When the day was springing,'Mercy, Pity, PeaceIs the world's release.'Thus he sung all dayOver the new mown hay,Till the sun went downAnd haycocks looked brown.I heard a Devil curseOver the heath and the furze,'Mercy could be no more,If there was nobody poor,And pity no more could be,If all were as happy as we.'At his curse the sun went down,And the heavens gave a frown.Down pour'd the heavy rainOver the new reap'd grain ...And Miseries' increaseIs Mercy, Pity, Peace.","{
    ""22"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 22,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    }
}"
23,"2018-02-27 21:05:37","The Child-Angel","Rabindranath Tagore","They clamour and fight, they doubt and despair, they know no endto their wrangling.Let your life come amongst them like a flame of light, mychild, unflickering and pure, and delight them into silence.They are cruel in their greed and their envy, their words are likehidden knives thirsting for blood.Go and stand amidst their scowling hearts, my child, and letyour gentle eyes fall upon them like the forgiving peace of theevening over the strife of the day.Let them see your face, my child, and thus know the meaningof all things; let them love you and thus love each other.Come and take your seat in the bosom of the limitless, mychild. At sunrise open and raise your heart like a blossomingflower, and at sunset bend your head and in silence complete theworship of the day.","{
    ""23"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 23,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    },
    ""373"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 373,
        ""category_1.id"": 17,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:11:44"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Child Poems""
    }
}"
24,"2018-02-27 21:05:40","A Lost Angel","Ellis Parker Butler","When first we met she seemed so white I feared her;As one might near a spirit bright I neared her;An angel pure from heaven above I dreamed her,And far too good for human love I deemed her.A spirit free from mortal taint I thought her,And incense as unto a saint I brought her.Well, incense burning did not seem To please her,And insolence I feared she’d deem To squeeze her;Nor did I dare for that same why To kiss her,Lest, shocked, she’d cause my eager eye To miss her.I sickened thinking of some way To win her,When lo! she asked me, one fine day, To dinner!Twas thus that made of common flesh I found her,And in a mortal lover’s mesh I wound her.Embraces, kisses, loving looks I gave her,And buying bon-bons, flowers and books, I save her;For her few honest, human taints I love her,Nor would I change for all the saints Above herThose eyes, that little face, that so Endear her,And all the human joy I know When near her;And I am glad, when to my breast I press her,She’s just a woman, like the rest, God bless her!","{
    ""24"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 24,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    },
    ""1413"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 1413,
        ""category_1.id"": 68,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:17:10"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Lost Poems""
    }
}"
25,"2018-02-27 21:05:42","Vision Of The Archangels, The","Rupert Brooke","Slowly up silent peaks, the white edge of the world,Trod four archangels, clear against the unheeding sky,Bearing, with quiet even steps, and great wings furled,A little dingy coffin; where a child must lie,It was so tiny. (Yet, you had fancied, God could neverHave bidden a child turn from the spring and the sunlight,And shut him in that lonely shell, to drop for everInto the emptiness and silence, into the night. . . .)They then from the sheer summit cast, and watched it fall,Through unknown glooms, that frail black coffin -- and thereinGod's little pitiful Body lying, worn and thin,And curled up like some crumpled, lonely flower-petal --Till it was no more visible; then turned againWith sorrowful quiet faces downward to the plain.","{
    ""25"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 25,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    }
}"
26,"2018-02-27 21:05:42","The Vision of the Archangels","Rupert Brooke","Slowly up silent peaks, the white edge of the world,Trod four archangels, clear against the unheeding sky, Bearing, with quiet even steps, and great wings furled, A little dingy coffin; where a child must lie, It was so tiny. (Yet, you had fancied, God could neverHave bidden a child turn from the spring and the sunlight,And shut him in that lonely shell, to drop for ever Into the emptiness and silence, into the night.…) They then from the sheer summit cast, and watched it fall, Through unknown glooms, that frail black coffin—and thereinGod’s little pitiful Body lying, worn and thin, And curled up like some crumpled, lonely flower petal— Till it was no more visible; then turned again With sorrowful quiet faces downward to the plain.","{
    ""26"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 26,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    }
}"
27,"2018-02-27 21:05:45","The Guardian-Angel","Robert Browning","A PICTURE AT FANO.I.Dear and great Angel, wouldst thou only leaveThat child, when thou hast done with him, for me!Let me sit all the day here, that when eveShall find performed thy special ministry,And time come for departure, thou, suspendingThy flight, mayst see another child for tending,Another still, to quiet and retrieve.II.Then I shall feel thee step one step, no more,From where thou standest now, to where I gaze,---And suddenly my head is covered o'erWith those wings, white above the child who praysNow on that tomb---and I shall feel thee guardingMe, out of all the world; for me, discardingYon heaven thy home, that waits and opes its door.III.I would not look up thither past thy headBecause the door opes, like that child, I know,For I should have thy gracious face instead,Thou bird of God! And wilt thou bend me lowLike him, and lay, like his, my hands together,And lift them up to pray, and gently tetherMe, as thy lamb there, with thy garment's spread?IV.If this was ever granted, I would restMy bead beneath thine, while thy healing handsClose-covered both my eyes beside thy breast,Pressing the brain, which too much thought expands,Back to its proper size again, and smoothingDistortion down till every nerve had soothing,And all lay quiet, happy and suppressed.V.How soon all worldly wrong would be repaired!I think how I should view the earth and skiesAnd sea, when once again my brow was baredAfter thy healing, with such different eyes. O world, as God has made it! All is beauty:And knowing this, is love, and love is duty.What further may be sought for or declared?VI.Guercino drew this angel I saw teach(Alfred, dear friend!)---that little child to pray,Holding the little hands up, each to eachPressed gently,---with his own head turned awayOver the earth where so much lay before himOf work to do, though heaven was opening o'er him,And he was left at Fano by the beach.VII.We were at Fano, and three times we wentTo sit and see him in his chapel there,And drink his beauty to our soul's content---My angel with me too: and since I careFor dear Guercino's fame (to which in powerAnd glory comes this picture for a dower,Fraught with a pathos so magnificent)---VIII.And since he did not work thus earnestlyAt all times, and has else endured some wrong---I took one thought his picture struck from me,And spread it out, translating it to song.My love is here. Where are you, dear old friend? How rolls the Wairoa at your world's far end? This is Ancona, yonder is the sea.","{
    ""27"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 27,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    }
}"
28,"2018-02-27 21:05:48","The Boy And the Angel","Robert Browning","Morning, evening, noon and night,``Praise God!; sang Theocrite.Then to his poor trade he turned,Whereby the daily meal was earned.Hard he laboured, long and well;O'er his work the boy's curls fell.But ever, at each period,He stopped and sang, ``Praise God!''Then back again his curls he threw,And cheerful turned to work anew.Said Blaise, the listening monk, ``Well done;``I doubt not thou art heard, my son:``As well as if thy voice to-day``Were praising God, the Pope's great way.``This Easter Day, the Pope at Rome``Praises God from Peter's dome.''Said Theocrite, ``Would God that I``Might praise him, that great way, and die!''Night passed, day shone,And Theocrite was gone.With God a day endures alway,A thousand years are but a day.God said in heaven, ``Nor day nor night``Now brings the voice of my delight.''Then Gabriel, like a rainbow's birth,Spread his wings and sank to earth;Entered, in flesh, the empty cell,Lived there, and played the craftsman well;And morning, evening, noon and night,Praised God in place of Theocrite.And from a boy, to youth he grew:The man put off the stripling's hue:The man matured and fell awayInto the season of decay:And ever o'er the trade he bent,And ever lived on earth content.(He did God's will; to him, all oneIf on the earth or in the sun.)God said, ``A praise is in mine ear;``There is no doubt in it, no fear:``So sing old worlds, and so``New worlds that from my footstool go.``Clearer loves sound other ways:``I miss my little human praise.''Then forth sprang Gabriel's wings, off fellThe flesh disguise, remained the cell.'Twas Easter Day: he flew to Rome,And paused above Saint Peter's dome.In the tiring-room close byThe great outer gallery,With his holy vestments dight,Stood the new Pope, Theocrite:And all his past careerCame back upon him clear,Since when, a boy, he plied his trade,Till on his life the sickness weighed;And in his cell, when death drew near,An angel in a dream brought cheer:And rising from the sickness drearHe grew a priest, and now stood here.To the East with praise he turned,And on his sight the angel burned.``I bore thee from thy craftsman's cell``And set thee here; I did not well.``Vainly I left my angel-sphere,``Vain was thy dream of many a year.``Thy voice's praise seemed weak; it dropped---``Creation's chorus stopped!``Go back and praise again``The early way, while I remain.``With that weak voice of our disdain,``Take up creation's pausing strain.``Back to the cell and poor employ:``Resume the craftsman and the boy!''Theocrite grew old at home;A new Pope dwelt in Peter's dome.One vanished as the other died:They sought God side by side.","{
    ""28"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 28,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    },
    ""4848"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 4848,
        ""category_1.id"": 42,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:14:31"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""God Poems""
    }
}"
29,"2018-02-27 21:05:50","The Changeling ( From The Tent on the Beach )","John Greenleaf Whittier","FOR the fairest maid in HamptonThey needed not to search,Who saw young Anna favorCome walking into church,--Or bringing from the meadows,At set of harvest-day,The frolic of the blackbirds,The sweetness of the hay.Now the weariest of all mothers,The saddest two years' bride,She scowls in the face of her husband,And spurns her child aside.""Rake out the red coals, goodman,--For there the child shall lie,Till the black witch comes to fetch herAnd both up chimney fly.""It's never my own little daughter,It's never my own,"" she said;""The witches have stolen my Anna,And left me an imp instead.""Oh, fair and sweet was my baby,Blue eyes, and hair of gold;But this is ugly and wrinkled,Cross, and cunning, and old.""I hate the touch of her fingers,I hate the feel of her skin;It's not the milk from my bosom,But my blood, that she sucks in.""My face grows sharp with the torment;Look! my arms are skin and bone!Rake open the red coals, goodman,And the witch shall have her own.""She'll come when she hears it crying,In the shape of an owl or bat,And she'll bring us our darling AnnaIn place of her screeching brat.""Then the goodman, Ezra Dalton,Laid his hand upon her head:Thy sorrow is great, O woman!I sorrow with thee,"" he said.""The paths to trouble are manyAnd never but one sure wayLeads out to the light beyond it:My poor wife, let us pray.""Then he said to the great All-Father,""Thy daughter is weak and blind;Let her sight come back, and clothe herOnce more in her right mind.""Lead her out of this evil shadow,Out of these fancies wild;Let the holy love of the motherTurn again to her child.""Make her lips like the lips of MaryKissing her blessed Son;Let her hands, like the hands of Jesus,Rest on her little one.""Comfort the soul of thy handmaid,Open her prison-door,And thine shall be all the gloryAnd praise forevermore.""Then into the face of its motherThe baby looked up and smiled;And the cloud of her soul was lifted,And she knew her little child.A beam of the slant west sunshineMade the wan face almost fair,Lit the blue eyes' patient wonderAnd the rings of pale gold hair.She kissed it on lip and forehead,She kissed it on cheek and chinkAnd she bared her snow-white bosomTo the lips so pale and thin.Oh, fair on her bridal morningWas the maid who blushed and smiled,But fairer to Ezra DaltonLooked the mother of his child.With more than a lover's fondnessHe stooped to her worn young face,And the nursing child and the motherHe folded in one embrace.""Blessed be God!"" he murmured.""Blessed be God!"" she said;""For I see, who once was blinded,--I live, who once was dead.""Now mount and ride, my goodman,As thou lovest thy own soul!Woe's me, if my wicked fanciesBe the death of Goody Cole!""His horse he saddled and bridled,And into the night rode he,Now through the great black woodland,Now by the white-beached sea.He rode through the silent clearings,He came to the ferry wide,And thrice he called to the boatmanAsleep on the other side.He set his horse to the river,He swam to Newbury town,And he called up Justice SewallIn his nightcap and his gown.And the grave and worshipful justice(Upon whose soul be peace!)Set his name to the jailer's warrantFor Goodwife Cole's release.Then through the night the hoof-beatsWent sounding like a flail;And Goody Cole at cockcrowCame forth from Ipswich jail.","{
    ""29"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 29,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    },
    ""214"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 214,
        ""category_1.id"": 10,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:11:08"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Beach Poems""
    }
}"
30,"2018-02-27 21:05:51","The Destroying Angel","William Topaz McGonagall","I dreamt a dream the other nightThat an Angel appeared to me, clothed in white.Oh! it was a beautiful sight,Such as filled my heart with delight. And in her hand she held a flaming brand,Which she waved above her head most grand;And on me she glared with love-beaming eyes,Then she commanded me from my bed to arise. And in a sweet voice she said, ""You must follow me,And in a short time you shall seeThe destruction of all the public-houses in the city,Which is, my friend, the God of Heaven's decree."" Then from my bed in fear I arose,And quickly donned on my clothes;And when that was done she said, "" Follow meDirect to the High Street, fearlessly."" So with the beautiful Angel away I did go,And when we arrived at the High Street, Oh! what a show,I suppose there were about five thousand men there,All vowing vengeance against the publicans, I do declare. Then the Angel cried with a solemn voice aloudTo that vast end Godly assembled crowd,""Gentlemen belonging the fair City of Dundee,Remember I have been sent here by God to warn ye. ""That by God's decree ye must take up arms and follow meAnd wreck all the public-houses in this fair City,Because God cannot countenance such dens of iniquity.Therefore, friends of God, come, follow me. ""Because God has said there's no use preaching against strong drink,Therefore, by taking up arms against it, God does think,That is the only and the effectual cureTo banish it from the land, He is quite sure. ""Besides, it has been denounced in Dundee for fifty yearsBy the friends of Temperance, while oft they have shed tears.Therefore, God thinks there's no use denouncing it any longer,Because the more that's said against it seemingly it grows stronger."" And while the Angel was thus addressing the people,The Devil seemed to be standing on the Townhouse Steeple,Foaming at the mouth with rage, and seemingly much annoyed,And kicking the Steeple because the public-houses wore going to be destroyed. Then the Angel cried, "" Satan, avaunt! begone!""Then he vanished in the flame, to the amazement of everyone;And waving aloft the flaming brand,That she carried in her right hand She cried, ""Now, friends of the Temperance cause, follow me:For remember if's God's high decreeTo destroy all the public-houses in this fair City;Therefore, friends of God, let's commence this war immediately."" Then from the High Street we all did retire,As the Angel, sent by God, did desire;And along the Perth Road we all did go,While the Angel set fire to the public-houses along that row. And when the Perth Road public-houses were fired, she cried, "" Follow me,And next I'll fire the Hawkhill public-houses instantly.""Then away we went with the Angel, without dread or woe,And she fired the IEawkhill public-houses as onward we did go. Then she cried, ""Let's on to the Scouringburn, in God's name.""And away to the Scouringburn we went, with our hearts aflame,As the destroying Angel did command.And when there she fired the public-houses, which looked very grand. And when the public-houses there were blazing like a kiln,She cried, "" Now, my friends, we'll march to the Bonnet Hill,And we'll fire the dens of iniquity without dismay,Therefore let's march on, my friends, without delay."" And when we arrived at the Bonnet Hill,The Angel fired the public-houses, as she did well.Then she cried, ""We'll leave them now to their fate,And march on to the Murraygate."" Then we marched on to the Murraygate,And the Angel fired the public-houses there, a most deserving fate.Then to the High Street we marched and fired them there,Which was a most beautiful blaze, I do declare. And on the High Street, old men and women were gathered there,And as the flames ascended upwards, in amazement they did stareWhen they saw the public-houses in a blaze,But they clapped their hands with joy and to God gave praise. Then the Angel cried, ""Thank God, Christ's Kingdom's near at hand,And there will soon be peace and plenty throughout the land,And the ravages of the demon Drink no more will be seen.""But, alas, I started up in bed, and behold it was a dream!","{
    ""30"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 30,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    },
    ""4851"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 4851,
        ""category_1.id"": 42,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:14:31"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""God Poems""
    }
}"
31,"2018-02-27 21:05:56","Angels, in the early morning","Emily Dickinson","Angels, in the early morningMay be seen the Dews among,Stooping -- plucking -- smiling -- flying --Do the Buds to them belong?Angels, when the sun is hottestMay be seen the sands among,Stooping -- plucking -- sighing -- flying --Parched the flowers they bear along.","{
    ""31"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 31,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    }
}"
32,"2018-02-27 21:05:57",Angelus,"Duncan Campbell Scott","A deep bell that links the downsTo the drowsy air;Every loop of sound that swoons,Finds a circle fair,Whereon it doth rest and fade;Every stroke that dins is laidLike a node,Spinning out the quivering, fine,Vibrant tendrils of a vine:(Bim - bim - bim.)How they wreathe and run,Silvern as a filmy light,Filtered from the sun:The god of sound is out of sight,And the bell is like a cloud,Humming to the outer rim,Low and loud:(Bim - bim - bim.)Throwing down the tempered lull,Fragile, beautiful:Married drones and overtones,How we fancy them to swim,Spreading into shapes that shine,With the aura of the metals,Prisoned in the bell,Fulvous tinted as a shell,Dreamy, dim,Deep in amber hyaline:(Bim - bim - bim.)","{
    ""32"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 32,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    }
}"
33,"2018-02-27 21:05:59","God permits industrious Angels","Emily Dickinson","God permits industrious Angels --Afternoons -- to play --I met one -- forgot my Schoolmates --All -- for Him -- straightway --God calls home -- the Angels -- promptly --At the Setting Sun --I missed mine -- how dreary -- Marbles --After playing Crown!","{
    ""33"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 33,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    }
}"
34,"2018-02-27 21:06:02","Air And Angels","John Donne","Twice or thrice had I loved thee,Before I knew thy face or name,So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame,Angels affect us oft, and worship'd be;Still when, to where thou wert, I came,Some lovely glorious nothing I did see.But since my soul, whose child love is,Takes limbs of flesh, and else could nothing do,More subtile than the parent is,Love must not be, but take a body too,And therefore what thou wert, and who,I bid Love ask, and nowThat it assume thy body, I allow,And fix itself in thy lip, eye, and brow.Whilst thus to ballast love, I thought,And so more steadily to have gone,With wares which would sink admiration,I saw, I had love's pinnace overfraught,Ev'ry thy hair for love to work uponIs much too much, some fitter must be sought;For, nor in nothing, nor in thingsExtreme, and scatt'ring bright, can love inhere;Then as an Angel, face, and wingsOf air, not pure as it, yet pure doth wear,So thy love may be my loves sphere;Just such disparityAs is twixt Air and Angels' purity,'Twixt women's love, and men's will ever be.","{
    ""34"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 34,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    }
}"
35,"2018-02-27 21:06:07","First Party At Ken Kesey's With Hell's Angels","Allen Ginsberg","Cool black night thru redwoodscars parked outside in shadebehind the gate, stars dim abovethe ravine, a fire burning by the sideporch and a few tired souls hunched overin black leather jackets. In the hugewooden house, a yellow chandelier at 3 A.M. the blast of loudspeakershi-fi Rolling Stones Ray Charles BeatlesJumping Joe Jackson and twenty youthsdancing to the vibration thru the floor,a little weed in the bathroom, girls in scarlettights, one muscular smooth skinned mansweating dancing for hours, beer cansbent littering the yard, a hanged mansculpture dangling from a high creek branch,children sleeping softly in their bedroom bunks.And 4 police cars parked outside the paintedgate, red lights revolving in the leaves. December 1965","{
    ""35"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 35,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    }
}"
36,"2018-02-27 21:06:09","My Guardian Angel","Robert William Service","When looking back I dimly seeThe trails my feet have trod,Some hand divine, it seems to me,Has pulled the strings with God;Some angel form has lifeward leanedWhen hope for me was past;Some love sublime has intervenedTo save me at the last.For look you! I was born a fool,Damnation was my fate;My lot to drivel and to drool,Egregious and frutrate.But in the deep of my despair,When dark my doom was writ,Some saving hand was always thereto pull me from the Pit.A Guardian Angel - how absurd!I scoff at Power Divine.And yet . . . a someone spoke the wordThat willed me from the swine.And yet, despite my scorn of prayer,My lack of love or friend,I know a Presence will be there,To save me at the end.","{
    ""36"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 36,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    }
}"
37,"2018-02-27 21:06:09","The Woman And The Angel","Robert William Service","An angel was tired of heaven, as he lounged in the golden street;His halo was tilted sideways, and his harp lay mute at his feet;So the Master stooped in His pity, and gave him a pass to go,For the space of a moon, to the earth-world, to mix with the men below.He doffed his celestial garments, scarce waiting to lay them straight;He bade good by to Peter, who stood by the golden gate;The sexless singers of heaven chanted a fond farewell,And the imps looked up as they pattered on the red-hot flags of hell.Never was seen such an angel -- eyes of heavenly blue,Features that shamed Apollo, hair of a golden hue;The women simply adored him; his lips were like Cupid's bow;But he never ventured to use them -- and so they voted him slow.Till at last there came One Woman, a marvel of loveliness,And she whispered to him: ""Do you love me?"" And he answered that woman, ""Yes.""And she said: ""Put your arms around me, and kiss me, and hold me -- so --""But fiercely he drew back, saying: ""This thing is wrong, and I know.""Then sweetly she mocked his scruples, and softly she him beguiled:""You, who are verily man among men, speak with the tongue of a child.We have outlived the old standards; we have burst, like an over-tight thong,The ancient, outworn, Puritanic traditions of Right and Wrong.""Then the Master feared for His angel, and called him again to His side,For oh, the woman was wondrous, and oh, the angel was tried!And deep in his hell sang the Devil, and this was the strain of his song:""The ancient, outworn, Puritanic traditions of Right and Wrong.""","{
    ""37"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 37,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    },
    ""8846"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 8846,
        ""category_1.id"": 122,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:22:51"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Woman Poems""
    }
}"
38,"2018-02-27 21:06:11","Two or three angels","Stephen Crane","Two or three angelsCame near to the earth.They saw a fat church.Little black streams of peopleCame and went in continually.And the angels were puzzledTo know why the people went thus,And why they stayed so long within.","{
    ""38"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 38,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    }
}"
39,"2018-02-27 21:06:12","""It was wrong to do this,"" said the angel","Stephen Crane","""It was wrong to do this,"" said the angel.""You should live like a flower,Holding malice like a puppy,Waging war like a lambkin.""""Not so,"" quoth the manWho had no fear of spirits;""It is only wrong for angelsWho can live like the flowers,Holding malice like the puppies,Waging war like the lambkins.""","{
    ""39"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 39,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    }
}"
40,"2018-02-27 21:06:14","An Angel in the House","James Henry Leigh Hunt","How sweet it were, if without feeble fright, Or dying of the dreadful beauteous sight, An angel came to us, and we could bear To see him issue from the silent air At evening in our room, and bend on ours His divine eyes, and bring us from his bowers News of dear friends, and children who have never Been dead indeed,--as we shall know forever. Alas! we think not what we daily see About our hearths,--angels that are to be, Or may be if they will, and we prepare Their souls and ours to meet in happy air;-- A child, a friend, a wife whose soft heart sings In unison with ours, breeding its future wings.","{
    ""40"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 40,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 20:10:26"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""Angel Poems""
    }
}"