Classic Poem

Now the holy Maiden calls me,
Bids me sing her wondrous story.
Son Divine, be thou my helper,
With thy gifts my harp enriching,
So that I may sing thy Mother,
Paint her picture full of beauty.
See, the Maiden womb conceiveth;
See, the Maiden breast is fruitful;
Wonder far surpassing nature—
Mother's milk and Maiden brightness,
All at once, in one pure body.
Wonders that no tongue can utter—
See, her Son the Virgin beareth.
Lo, she gives her milk to feed him,
Food to him who feedeth all things.
See, her tender knees support him—
Him whose power upholdeth all things.
Still a Maid and still a Mother,
What is there, we may not call her?
Fair in soul, in body holy;
Pure her mind and clear her judgment;
And her thoughts exceeding perfect.
She is chaste and she is prudent;
Fair in form and full of beauty.
Maidens all, rejoice in Mary,
Glad that she, a Maid, conceiveth,
Bearing him who beareth all things;
And in him the race of Adam
From its bondage is delivered.
Let him too rejoice in Mary—
Adam, whom the serpent wounded.
Lo, she brings a Fruit, and feeds him,
And he tramples on the serpent;
For that Fruit gives strength, and heals him
From the serpent's deadly wounding.
Priests, rejoice in her, the blest One,
Bearing our great Priest and Victim,
Freeing you from sacrifices.
He himself becomes our Victim,
Reconciles us to his Father.
Prophets all, rejoice in Mary;
For in her your songs are ended,
All your prophecies are perfect,
All your words are proved and strengthened.
Patriarchs all, rejoice in Mary;
See, she takes your promised blessing;
In her Son, she makes you perfect—
Priests and saints and seers he hallows.
For the bitter fruit our mother
Plucked from off the tree of knowledge,
See, the sweet Fruit Mary gives us,
Wherewith all the world is sweetened.
Now the Tree of Life, once hidden
In the midst of Eden's garden,
Grows in Mary, springeth from her,
Far and wide its sweet fruits sending;
And the whole creation resteth
In the shadow of its branches.
Mary weaves the robe of glory,
Gives it to her father Adam,
Who mid Eden's trees was naked,
Clothing him with peace and beauty.
Whom the wife o'erthrew the Daughter
Lifteth, and his heart is gladdened.
Eve and Satan leagued together
Dug the pit for Adam's ruin.
Mary with the angel speaketh,
And from out the deep, they lift him,
By the mystery hid for ages,
Come to light for Adam's healing.
Now the Virgin-Vine hath borne us
Grapes, that make the Wine of sweetness,
Where our parents, Eve and Adam,
Find true comfort in their sorrow,
Taste the drink of life and healing,
And their woes are lost in gladness.