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! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: AT NICE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS LE MEDECIN MALGRE LUI by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS |