Classic Poem

What is this tale of Angels in a vision,
Bowmen that hovered o'er our broken host?
What is this sound of laughter and derision,
As when one speaks at noonday of a ghost?

Say that the myth was born from out the dreaming
Of one who wrought it for his daily bread:
Ah, none the less, be sure it was the streaming
Of light of Heaven thro' the heart and head!

When gather Principality and Power,
And spiritual wickedness in places high,
When the World-Rulers of this Darkness lower
In one last tempest, to triumph or to die;

When Armageddon all the world inherits,
Dark legacy of People, King, and Priest;
When issue, like to frogs, the unclean spirits
From the False Prophet, the Dragon, and the Beast:

Think ye 'tis credible that God, uncaring,
Sits in His Heaven, smiling at the psalms?
Think ye His Angels, neutral and undaring,
Too proud to fight, can only wave their palms?

Maketh He not His Angels fires of flaming,
Yea, and His Ministers a rushing wind,
Sodom to burn for terror and for shaming,
The corners of the world to loose and bind?

Is it not writ that Michael to their prison
Hurled down the rebels, and bound them with a chain?
If the Black Horde have now once more arisen,
Shall not the same spear thrust them down again?

Angels at Mons? — and thinkest thou there solely
Front they the Princes and Powers of the Air?
Nay, from lowest Hell thro' all the Heavens holy,
Fight they the Serpent, nor ever know despair!

War in the compass of a drop of water,
War in the ebb and flow of thine own blood:
The Darkness and the Light arrayed for slaughter
In every atom of the Eternal Flood!

Ask art thou worthy of the shining vision,
As when the Prophet opened the young eyes,
Showed on the mount the burning apparition,
Horses and chariots of fire from the skies?

Blessed who see not, and who yet believe it,
Winning assurance where the sense is numb;
Virtues and powers of the soul perceive it,
Bow down in worship, and with joy are dumb!

Blest who believe, and need no nerve of seeing;
Well may they fight, who never fight alone:
Army on army of the Heavens in being,
And, Himself wounded, the Captain on the throne!