A woman dreams she’s a queen watched over by a gentle angel. At first, she weeps endlessly, and he patiently wipes her tears—but she won’t share what truly troubles her, hiding her “heart’s delight” from him. That emotional withholding drives him off. When morning comes, she stops crying, but instead of opening up, she walls herself behind an army of imaginary shields and spears. The angel eventually returns, yet her armor makes any real connection impossible. By then, youth is gone, her hair has greyed, and she feels only the ache of missed chances. The mood is delicate and sorrowful, tinged with regret: the speaker moves from helpless weeping to rigid self-protection, and finally to a quiet recognition that her own guardedness has cost her the comfort she craved.
The Angel — Summary
I dreamt a dream! What can it mean? And that I was a maiden Queen Guarded by an Angel mild: Witless woe was ne'er beguiled!
And I wept both night and day, And he wiped my tears away; And I wept both day and night, And hid from him my heart's delight.
So he took his wings, and fled; Then the morn blushed rosy red. I dried my tears, and armed my fears With ten-thousand shields and spears.
Soon my Angel came again; I was armed, he came in vain; For the time of youth was fled, And grey hairs were on my head.