VIRGO GLORIOSA, MATER AMANTISSIMA
VINES branching stilly
Shade the open door,
In the house of Zion’s Lily,
Cleanly and poor.
O brighter than wild laurel
The Babe bounds in her hand,
The King, who for apparel
Hath but a swaddling-band,
And sees her heavenlier smiling than stars in His command!
Soon, mystic changes
Part Him from her breast,
Yet there awhile He ranges
Gardens of rest:
Yea, she the first to ponder
Our ransom and recall,
Awhile may rock Him under
Her young curls’ fall,
Against that only sinless love-loyal heart of all.