Part 7 — 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. Waes-hael! yet lift no lid: Drain ye the reeds for wine. Drink-hael! the milk was hid That soothed that Babe divine; Hush’d, as this hollow channel flows, He drew the balsam from the rose. Waes-hael! thus glow’d the breast Where a God yearn’d to cling; Drink-hael! so Jesu press’d Life from its mystic spring; Then hush and bend in reverent sign And breathe the thrilling reeds for wine. Waes-hael! in shadowy scene Lo! Christmas children we: Drink-hael! behold we lean At a far Mother’s knee; To dream that thus her bosom smiled, And learn the lip of Bethlehem’s Child.

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!