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 gro… - Robert Stephen Hawker

Waes-hael for knight and dame! O merry be their dole!
Drink-hael! in Jesu’s name We fill the tawny bowl;
But cover down the curving crest,
Mould of the Orient Lady’s breast.

There lies a cold corpse upon the sands Down by the rolling sea;
Close up the eyes and straighten the hands As a Christian man’s should be.Bury it deep, for the good of my soul, Six feet below the ground;
Let the sexton come and the death-bell toll And good men stand around.Lay it among the churchyard stones, Where the priest hath bless’d the clay:
I cannot leave the unburied bones, And I fain would go my way.

They rear’d their lodges in the wilderness,
Or built them cells beside the shadowy sea,
And there they dwelt with angels, like a dream!
So they unroll’d the Volume of the Book
And fill’d the fields of the Evangelist With thoughts as sweet as flowers.