Metamorphosis.

I watched a creepy, crawly thing,
In ugly raiment clad,
Spin for itself a tomb, and sing
As if its soul were glad—
Assuming soul it had.
I saw a wingê angel creep,
In robes of rainbow hue,
From out that ugly tomb of sleep
And soar into the blue—
And it was singing, too.
I heard it not with mortal ear;
As if a mortal could!
And yet its song rang loud and clear,
Triumphant “God is good.”—
And then I understood.

—James J. Stroud.

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