Page:Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke (1918).djvu/54

 THE ANGELS

They all have tired mouths

And luminous, illimitable souls;

And a longing (as if for sin)

Trembles at times through their dreams.

They all resemble one another,

In God's garden they are silent

Like many, many intervals

In His mighty melody.

But when they spread their wings

They awaken the winds

That stir as though God

With His far-reaching master hands

Turned the pages of the dark book of Beginning.

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