Few subjects are more inspirational to write about than angels. Poets have long written about angels, expressing profound truths about angelic beings in creative and compelling ways. Here's a look at how women have described angels in famous inspirational poems:
"Angels, in the early morning/May be seen the Dews among/Stooping -- plucking -- smiling -- flying --/Do the Buds to them belong?" - Emily Dickinson, from the poem "Angels, in the Early Morning"
"God permits industrious Angels/Afternoons -- to play/I met one -- forgot my Schoolmates/All for Him/straightway..." - Emily Dickinson, from the poem "God Permits Industrious Angels"
"We are weaned from our timidity/In the flush of love's light/we dare be brave/And suddenly we see/that love costs all we are/and will ever be./Yet it is only love/which sets us free." - Maya Angelou, from the poem "Touched by an Angel"
"You call me an angel of love and of light/A being of goodness and heavenly fire/Sent out from God’s kingdom to guide you aright/In paths where your spirits may mount and aspire./You say that I glow like a star on its course/Like a ray from the alter, a spark from the source." - Ella Wheeler Wilcox, from the poem "Angel or Demon"
"Last night I had a dream/and I said to it.../'You are the answer./You will outlive my husband and my father.'/In that dream there was a city made of chains/where Joan was put to death in man's clothes/and the nature of the angels went unexplained/no two made in the same species/one with a nose, one with an ear in its hand/one chewing a star and recording its orbit/each one like a poem obeying itself/performing God's functions/a people apart." - Anne Sexton, from the poem "Consorting with Angels"
"Had the angel's feet/made any sound? He could not recall./No one had missed him, no one was in pursuit./He himself must be/the key, now, to the next door/the next terrors of freedom and joy." - Denise Levertov, from the poem "St. Peter and the Angel"
"If I lean down, to whisper, to them,/down into their gravitational field, there where they head busily on/into the woods, laying the gifts out one by one, onto the path/hoping to be on the air,/hoping to please the children..." - Jorie Graham, from the poem "The Guardian Angel of the Private Life"