I'm the spirit Enimalina, thy guardian angel, and
Drawn hither by a subtle law but few can understand—
The golden cord of sympathy, I leave the summer-land,
Thy aching brows with lilies to entwine.
I've watched thee late and early, I've watched thee on the
morn;
And when the sun has left the sky, and Luna like a lorn
Dejected maid has brought the hour most prized by hearts,
I thy aching brows with lilies have entwined.
I've watched thee in the battle with the many ills of Life,
And then when sleep has seized thee, only to renew the
strife
In dreams, has made, thy woe too rife, appear more keen
and rife,
I thy aching brows with lilies have entwined.
I've watched when dark and dreary has been thy horoscope;
And when thou strength has needed most with cark and
care to cope,
I've nerved thy arm, into thy heart have poured the oil of
hope—
I thy aching brows with lilies have entwined.
1878.
Joseph Skipsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-guardian-angel-7/
