.The unwelcome, the unbidden, Azrael, 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, Bear wings of snow and fire,
Passion and purity; Save one, all unavailing,
His wings are gray and trailing, Azrael, Angel of Death.
And yet the souls that Azrael brings Across the dark and cold,
Look up beneath those folded wings, And find them lined with gold.