The Two Angels
Two angels, one of Life and one of Death,Passed o'er our village as the morning broke;The dawn was on their faces, and beneath,The sombre houses hearsed with plumes of smoke.
Their attitude and aspect were the same,Alike their features and their robes of white;But one was crowned with amaranth, as with flame,And one with asphodels, like flakes of light.
I saw them pause on their celestial way;Then said I, with deep fear and doubt oppressed,"Beat not so loud, my heart, lest thou betrayThe place where thy beloved are at rest!"
And he who wore the crown of asphodels,Descending, at my door began to knock,And my soul sank within me, as in wellsThe waters sink before an earthquake's shock.
I recognized the nameless agony,The terror and the tremor and the pain,That oft before had filled or haunted me,And now returned with threefold strength again.
The door I opened to my heavenly guest,And listened, for I thought I heard God's voice;And, knowing whatsoe'er he sent was best,Dared neither to lament nor to rejoice.
Then with a smile, that filled the house with light,"My errand is not Death, but Life," he said;And ere I answered, passing out of sight,On his celestial embassy he sped.
'T was at thy door, O friend! and not at mine,The angel with the amaranthine wreath,Pausing, descended, and with voice divine,Whispered a word that had a sound like Death.
Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom,A shadow on those features fair and thin;And softly, from that hushed and darkened room,Two angels issued, where but one went in.
All is of God! If he but wave his hand,The mists collect, the rain falls thick and loud,Till, with a smile of light on sea and land,Lo! he looks back from the departing cloud.
Angels of Life and Death alike are his;Without his leave they pass no threshold o'er;Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this,Against his messengers to shut the door?
Words in this poem
- broke v. i.
- To transact business for another. Brome. [See Broker, and cf. Brook.]
- sombre n.
- Gloom; obscurity; duskiness; somberness.
- amaranth n.
- An imaginary flower supposed never to fade.
- nameless a.
- Without a name; not having been given a name; as, a nameless star.
- haunted a.
- Inhabited by, or subject to the visits of, apparitions; frequented by a ghost.
- amaranthine a.
- Of or pertaining to amaranth.
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Two Angels is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Project Gutenberg ebook #1365; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Two Angels, in The Complete Poetical Works (1839–1882), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1365, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/longfellow-poems/the-two-angels.html, id L17622.
Form and metre
The Two Angels is 44 lines in 11 stanzas of 4 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABAB, complete in 7 of its 11 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 90%). 96% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.0 syllables. 1 line ends on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending.
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 -A-A death · brokeA · beneath · smokeA
- 2 ABAB sameA · whiteB · flameA · lightB
- 3 ABAB wayA · oppressedB · betrayA · restB
- 4 ABAB asphodelsA · knockB · wellsA · shockB
- 5 -A-A agony · painA · me · againA
- 6 ABAB guestA · voiceB · bestA · rejoiceB
- 7 ABAB lightA · saidB · sightA · spedB
- 8 A-A- mineA · wreath · divineA · death
- 9 ABAB gloomA · thinB · roomA · inB
- 10 ABAB handA · loudB · landA · cloudB
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Two angels, one of Life and one of Death, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Passed o'er our village as the morning broke; | 10 | ··//˘··/˘· |
| The dawn was on their faces, and beneath, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| The sombre houses hearsed with plumes of smoke. | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| Their attitude and aspect were the same, | 10 | ·/˘··/···· |
| Alike their features and their robes of white; | 10 | ˘/·/˘····· |
| But one was crowned with amaranth, as with flame, | 11 | ·····/˘···· |
| And one with asphodels, like flakes of light. | 10 | ·········· |
| I saw them pause on their celestial way; | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| Then said I, with deep fear and doubt oppressed, | 10 | ········˘/ |
| "Beat not so loud, my heart, lest thou betray | 10 | ········˘/ |
| The place where thy beloved are at rest!" | 9 | ····˘/··· |
| And he who wore the crown of asphodels, | 10 | ·········· |
| Descending, at my door began to knock, | 10 | ˘/˘···˘/·· |
| And my soul sank within me, as in wells | 10 | ·········· |
| The waters sink before an earthquake's shock. | 10 | ·/˘····/·· |
| I recognized the nameless agony, | 9 | ·/˘··/˘/˘ |
| The terror and the tremor and the pain, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| That oft before had filled or haunted me, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And now returned with threefold strength again. | 10 | ··˘/·/··˘/ |
| The door I opened to my heavenly guest, | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| And listened, for I thought I heard God's voice; | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| And, knowing whatsoe'er he sent was best, | 8 | ·/······ |
| Dared neither to lament nor to rejoice. | 10 | ·/˘·˘/··˘/ |
| Then with a smile, that filled the house with light, | 10 | ·········· |
| "My errand is not Death, but Life," he said; | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| And ere I answered, passing out of sight, | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| On his celestial embassy he sped. | 9 | ··˘/˘/˘·· |
| 'T was at thy door, O friend! and not at mine, | 11 | ··········· |
| The angel with the amaranthine wreath, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Pausing, descended, and with voice divine, | 10 | /˘˘/˘···˘/ |
| Whispered a word that had a sound like Death. | 10 | /˘········ |
| Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| A shadow on those features fair and thin; | 10 | ·/···/˘··· |
| And softly, from that hushed and darkened room, | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Two angels issued, where but one went in. | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| All is of God! If he but wave his hand, | 10 | ·········· |
| The mists collect, the rain falls thick and loud, | 10 | ··˘/······ |
| Till, with a smile of light on sea and land, | 10 | ·········· |
| Lo! he looks back from the departing cloud. | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| Angels of Life and Death alike are his; | 10 | /˘····˘/·· |
| Without his leave they pass no threshold o'er; | 10 | ·······/·· |
| Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this, | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| Against his messengers to shut the door? | 9 | ···/˘···· |
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