Hollydaze Quotemail #2: A Quartet of Angelic Poems!

 Hello everyone –

 

As the holiday season begins, pictures and stories about angels are everywhere. Various types of angels, some named, and others unnamed, are present in all the major spiritual traditions of the world, and their depictions can provide comfort, hope, and inspiration during challenging times. Here is a quartet of my favorite poems about angels, all of which draw on Middle Eastern traditions about these amazing denizens of the unseen realms.

 

Abou Ben Adhem

By Leigh Hunt (1784-1859)

[Editor’s Note: Abou Ben Adhem (a/k/a Ibrahim ibn Adham, ca. 718-782 CE) was an early Muslim saint. You can learn more about his life and legacy @ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ibrahim_ibn_Adham.]

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)

Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,

And saw, within the moonlight in his room,

Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,

An angel writing in a book of gold: —

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,

And to the presence in the room he said,

“What writest thou?” — The vision raised its head,

And with a look made of all sweet accord,

Answered, “The names of those who love the Lord.”

“And is mine one?” said Abou. “Nay, not so,”

Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,

But cheerily still; and said, “I pray thee, then,

Write me as one that loves his fellow men.”

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night

It came again with a great wakening light,

And showed the names whom love of God had blest,

And lo! Ben Adhem’s name led all the rest.

 

Azraël

By Robert Gilbert Welsh

[Editor’s Note: Azraël is the proper name given to the Angel of Death in Jewish, Islamic, and Sikh traditions. This angel also appears in George MacDonald’s classic children’s novel, At the Back of the North Wind (1871). You can learn more about Azraël @ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Azrael.]

The angels in high places
Who minister to us,
Reflect God's smile, -- their faces
Are luminous;
Save one, whose face is hidden,
(The Prophet saith),
The unwelcome, the unbidden,
Azraël, Angel of Death.

And yet that veiled face, I know
Is lit with pitying eyes,
Like those faint stars, the first to glow
Through cloudy winter skies.

That they may never tire,
Angels, by God’s decree,
Bear wings of snow and fire, --
Passion and purity;
Save one, all unavailing,
(The Prophet saith),
His wings are gray and trailing,
Azraël, Angel of Death.

And yet the souls that Azraël brings
Across the dark and cold,
Look up beneath those folded wings,
And find them lined with gold.

 

Israfel

By Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)

“And the angel Israfel, whose heart-strings are a lute, and who has the sweetest voice of all God’s creatures.”

[Editor’s Note: In Islamic lore, it is said that the Archangel Israfel will blow the Last Trumpet at the consummation of human history. This angel is known as Raphael in Jewish and Christian traditions. You can learn more about Israfel/Raphael @ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Israfil.]

In Heaven a spirit doth dwell

“Whose heart-strings are a lute”;

None sing so wildly well

As the angel Israfel,

And the giddy stars (so legends tell),

Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell

Of his voice, all mute.

Tottering above

In her highest noon,

The enamored moon

Blushes with love,

While, to listen, the red levin

(With the rapid Pleiads, even,

Which were seven,)

Pauses in Heaven.

And they say (the starry choir

And the other listening things)

That Israfeli’s fire

Is owing to that lyre

By which he sits and sings —

The trembling living wire

Of those unusual strings.

But the skies that angel trod,

Where deep thoughts are a duty,

Where Love’s a grown-up God,

Where the Houri glances are

Imbued with all the beauty

Which we worship in a star.

Therefore, thou art not wrong,

Israfeli, who despisest

An unimpassioned song;

To thee the laurels belong,

Best bard, because the wisest!

Merrily live, and long!

The ecstasies above

With thy burning measures suit —

Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love,

With the fervor of thy lute —

Well may the stars be mute!

Yes, Heaven is thine; but this

Is a world of sweets and sours;

Our flowers are merely — flowers,

And the shadow of thy perfect bliss

Is the sunshine of ours.

If I could dwell

Where Israfel

Hath dwelt, and he where I,

He might not sing so wildly well

A mortal melody,

While a bolder note than this might swell

From my lyre within the sky.

“The Angels of Man”

By Bliss Carman (1861-1929)

    The word of the Lord of the outer worlds

    Went forth on the deeps of space,

    That Michael, Gabriel, Rafael,

    Should stand before his face,

    The seraphs of his threefold will,

    Each in his ordered place.

    Brave Michael, the right hand of God,

    Strong Gabriel, his voice,

    Fair Rafael, his holy breath

    That makes the world rejoice, —

    Archangels of omnipotence,

    Of knowledge, and of choice;

    Michael, angel of loveliness

    In all things that survive,

    And Gabriel, whose part it is

    To ponder and contrive,

    And Rafael, who puts the heart

    In everything alive.

    Came Rafael, the enraptured soul,

    Stainless as wind or fire,

    The urge within the flux of things,

    The life that must aspire,

    With whom is the beginning,

    The worth, and the desire;

    And Gabriel, the all-seeing mind,

    Bringer of truth and light,

    Who lays the courses of the stars

    In their stupendous flight,

    And calls the migrant flocks of spring

    Across the purple night;

    And Michael, the artificer

    Of beauty, shape, and hue,

    Lord of the forges of the sun,

    The crucible of the dew,

    And driver of the plowing rain

    When the flowers are born anew.

    Then said the Lord: "Ye shall account

    For the ministry ye hold,

    Since ye have been my sons to keep

    My purpose from of old.

    How fare the realms within your sway

    To perfections still untold?"

    Answered each as he had the word.

    And a great silence fell

    On all the listening hosts of heaven

    To hear their captains tell,—

    With the breath of the wind, the call of a bird,

    And the cry of a mighty bell.

    Then the Lord said: "The time is ripe

    For finishing my plan,

    And the accomplishment of that

    For which all time began.

    Therefore on you is laid the task

    Of the fashioning of man;

    "In your own likeness shall he be,

    To triumph in the end.

    I only give him Michael's strength

    To guard him and defend,

    With Gabriel to be his guide,

    And Rafael his friend.

    "Ye shall go forth upon the earth,

    And make there Paradise,

    And be the angels of that place

    To make men glad and wise,

    With loving-kindness in their hearts,

    And knowledge in their eyes.

    "And ye shall be man's counsellors

    That neither rest nor sleep,

    To cheer the lonely, lift the frail,

    And solace them that weep.

    And ever on his wandering trail

    Your watch-fires ye shall keep;

    "Till in the far years he shall find

    The country of his quest,

    The empire of the open truth,

    The vision of the best,

    Foreseen by every mother saint

    With her new-born on her breast."

 

Some Concluding Thoughts:

Although angels are depicted in various and sundry ways throughout the world’s spiritual traditions, it is noteworthy that many angels are depicted in very similar ways across cultures and religions. Studying comparative angelology can help us to understand how our worldwide spiritual traditions are interrelated in fascinating and surprising ways and equip us to build bridges of mutual respect and appreciation with our neighbors both far and near.

 

In this illustration (created by Gustave Dore') for Canto 31 of Dante's Paradiso, Dante and Beatrice gaze upon the angelic throngs that surround the divine abode in the highest (empyrean) heaven. (Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)