So bend thee to the Virgin’s knee,
To the little Babe, and taste and see
The milk of joy from the Maid’s breast,
That the angels drink, in unearthly rest.”
And the soul:
“It is but a childish love indeed,
Babes to cradle, babes to feed;
I am a fair, a full-grown bride,
I must haste to my Lover’s side.”
And the senses: