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13 Oct 2008

Are they not all Ministering Spirits?

By Robert Stephen Hawker   

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We see them not - we cannot hear
The music of their wing -
Yet know we that they sojourn near,
The Angels of the spring!

They glide along this lovely ground
When the first violet grows;
Their graceful hands have just unbound
The zone of yonder rose.

I gather it for thy dear breast,
From stain and shadow free:
That which an Angel's touch hath blest
Is meet, my love, for thee!


 
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