WE see them not--we cannot hear <br /> The music of their wing-- <br />Yet know we that they sojourn near, <br /> The Angels of the spring! <br /> <br />They glide along this lovely ground <br /> When the first violet grows; <br />Their graceful hands have just unbound <br /> The zone of yonder rose. <br /> <br />I gather it for thy dear breast, <br /> From stain and shadow free: <br />That which an Angel's touch hath blest <br /> Is meet, my love, for thee!<br /><br />Robert Stephen Hawker<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/are-they-not-all-ministering-spirits/
