| Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948). The Little Book of Modern Verse. 1917. |
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| 77. Fiat Lux |
| | | By Lloyd Mifflin |
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| THEN that dread angel near the awful throne, | |
| Leaving the seraphs ranged in flaming tiers, | |
| Winged his dark way through those unpinioned spheres, | |
| And on the void’s black beetling edge, alone, | |
| Stood with raised wings, and listened for the tone | 5 |
| Of God’s command to reach his eager ears, | |
| While Chaos wavered, for she felt her years | |
| Unsceptered now in that convulsive zone. | |
| Night trembled. And as one hath oft beheld | |
| A lamp within a vase light up its gloom, | 10 |
| So God’s voice lighted him, from heel to plume: | |
| “Let there be light!” It said, and Darkness, quelled, | |
| Shrunk noiseless backward in her monstrous womb | |
| Through vasts unwinnowed by the wings of eld! | |
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