[He's right. And he's wrong. Part of Gabriel hates Blake with a passion and yet the archangel can quote him from memory, because part of him doesn't. It's Milton that Gabriel refuses to look at.

[But Gabriel has no intention of letting Aziraphale know that.]

Well, sure! Who wouldn't like Wordsworth? Man had a hidden streak a mile long.

[He speaks this next in a singsong, not nearly enough to come close to being a 'song' because of just how teasing it is.]

She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleamed 'pon my sight
A lovely apparition sent
To be a moment's ornament
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair
Her bosom with a lovely flair;
And all things else about her drawn
Up in ways to turn one on
A dancing shape in the hay
A work of art, an awe-some lay.