Month of May
The month of Maia — Cybele's Roman name —
Ere Rome was Christ's. And 'twas for Vulcan's priest
To kindle at her shrine the rosy flame
On sweet May-day. Wombed in the fruitful east,
Not vainly westward, as the myths increased,
This purer rite, nor unprophetic, came:
A flower that should be gathered for the feast
Of truth — with more that erst decked Pagan shame.
Not now the mother of vain gods we pray,
But her, the God-Man's Mother, Ever-a-Maid:
And still to her this fairest month of May
Assign — our hearts upon her altar laid,
That her chaste love, descending with its fire,
May purge them from the dross of base desire.
Ere Rome was Christ's. And 'twas for Vulcan's priest
To kindle at her shrine the rosy flame
On sweet May-day. Wombed in the fruitful east,
Not vainly westward, as the myths increased,
This purer rite, nor unprophetic, came:
A flower that should be gathered for the feast
Of truth — with more that erst decked Pagan shame.
Not now the mother of vain gods we pray,
But her, the God-Man's Mother, Ever-a-Maid:
And still to her this fairest month of May
Assign — our hearts upon her altar laid,
That her chaste love, descending with its fire,
May purge them from the dross of base desire.
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