Angel Poem

Angel the word from Greek word Angelos, which means agent and angel are considered to be the agent of god in this world to fill his wishes. Angel is considered to be the god’s blessings to us who fills our lives with love and happiness. The name of angel gives a sense of peace and purity to mind and it is powerful to bring divine happiness and peace. The one person whose company can give you pleasure and peace is an angel for you. In everyone’s life, there is someone who gives you strength to fight with difficulties and consoles you in depressions. The power to make someone laugh in grief is limited to some blessed people only and those are angels to their close ones.

Angel poem are written by great poets with a feeling of blessed with someone special in life and has written the immense pleasure and support they have gathered from them. Anyone can be an angel for you, may be your parents, siblings, life partner or friends. Angel poem will give you the feeling of togetherness with your angel and dedicating an angel poem to someone special is a great way to recognize their love.

Angel Poem for Lovers

Beautiful Angel by Trevor Johnson
You are to me
All that an angel could be
My love for you
Is here for all the world to see
The gleam in your eyes
Is what keeps me alive
You are the vision of beauty
I see in front of me
The minor sound of your sweet voice
Is enough to make my heart rejoice
You’re an Angel to me
The most beautiful person
This world shall ever see
A special place in my heart
I shall forever have for thee
You are my love
You are my world
You are this Beautiful Angel to me

The Angel By William Blake
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.

The Hour of the Angel By Rudyard Kipling
Sooner or late–in earnest or in jest —
(But the stakes are no jest) Ithuriel’s Hour
Will spring on us, for the first time, the test
Of our sole unbacked competence and power
Up to the limit of our years and dower
Of judgment–or beyond. But here we have
Prepared long since our garland or our grave.

For, at that hour, the sum of all our past,
Act, habit, thought, and passion, shall be cast
In one addition, be it more or less,
And as that reading runs so shall we do;
Meeting, astounded, victory at the last,
Or, first and last, our own unworthiness.
And none can change us though they die to save!