Our Lady of May And Other Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Mary, Queen of the joy at the heart of spring,
Glad is the earth where thy beautiful feet have trod;
Thou the seal of His love upon everything,
Soul and spirit and body irradiate with God.

Laughter of children arises thy love to greet;
Praise and blessing from hearts that know thine aid;
Flowers unsheathe their fragrance to kiss thy feet;
Earth smiles up at her Queen, the Mother and Maid.

Mary, Mary, with all spring-life a-thrill,
Hearts that know thee rejoice exceedingly;
Mary, who knewest the sorrow of Calvary's hill;
Mary, who knowest the joy of eternity.

Mother of fairest love and of holiest mirth,
Glad alleluias rise from Christendom's heart;
Gift of the love of the Lover of heaven and earth,
Mother of Jesus Christ and His Church thou art.

Take, O Mary, the praise from altar and sod;
Pour on us light and love from the Heart divine;
For to thee, who hast ever lain in the Bosom of God,
He grants to bestow the gifts of His Heart as thine.

II—Ave

Hail Mary, full of grace;
God's light is on thy face;
The air about thee still
Feels the ecstatic thrill
Of message born in God's own Heart for thee,
When first He bad the universe to be.

Hail Mary, full of grace!
High in thy lowly place
Thou waitest for the hour
Of God's magnific dower.
What virgin can be fellow unto her
Beneath whose heart the Holy One doth stir!

Hail Mary, full of grace!
Thou lookest on His Face;
Thou holdest, blessed one,
Thy helpless, mighty Son:
Thou feedest from the fountain of thy breast
Him in whose care all worlds, all creatures rest.

Hail Mary, full of grace!
On Calvary thy place;
The sword hath pierced thee
Beneath His dreadful Tree;
Giver and Source of life, He hangs to-day
For Death and Hell to strike Him and to slay.

Hail Mary, full of grace!
His Easter light doth chase
The shadows, and for aye,
God's never-ending day.
Shine on her, Light of Light, her soul's Desire,
And softly draw Thy darling one up higher.

Hail Mary, full of grace!
Thy Lord's abiding-place!
Blessed thy motherhood,
With Gift of gifts endued;
Yea, rather, blessed, dear His child and true,
Thou who didst hear the word of Him and do.

Hail Mary, full of grace!
Won is thine earthly race:

His love hath whispered thee,
Come, O beloved, to Me!
Up to the place of My transcendent bliss
Veni, Maria, coronaberis!

Hail, Mary, full of grace!
At His dear side thy place,
Set by the love of Him
Above the seraphim.
Pray for us, Mother of God, whose prayers prevail!
Hail, Mary, full of grace! Hail Mary, hail!

III—Jesum Ostende Nobis

O Tree of Life, whose Fruit is healing
Of sin and woe;
Our Help, our Hope, our Joy revealing,
Dear Mother, show.

Show us thy blessed Fruit, O Mother;
(Cold hearts and slow!)
Show Him as verily none other
Like thee can show.

Show us that Loveliness exceeding,
That we may know;
Show us the Life our pardon pleading;
Dear Mother, show.

Show us the very Love, O Mother,
Who loved us so;
Our God, our Friend, our Judge, our Brother,
Dear Mother, show.

IV—Her Conception

O God, our Father, still
We wait for Thee,
Who surely wilt fulfil
Thy promise free.

The earth Thou calledst good
Thou wouldst not leave
In utter orphanhood,
To mourn and grieve.

On outer mist and damp,
Benignant fell
Rays of Thy silver lamp
In Israel,

Where many a day and long,
Children of Thee
Heard Thee in holy song
And prophecy;

Felt Thee when victims slain
On altars lay,
And fear and shame and stain
Seemed purged away.

And through Thy sun, Thy wind,
Thy land, Thy sea,
Thy children sought to find
Thee, Father, Thee:

Saying, Through earth's fair light,
Her shadows dim,
Haply His creatures might
Feel after Him.

The whole world throbbed with God:
God Himself was
In star, and sun, and sod,
The End and Cause.

He moving men to yearn
In deep unrest,
And hearts inly to burn
To find their Best.

His voice rang loud and clear
Through the profound;
And some were gross of ear
And heard no sound.

And some lay soft and warm,
Till time to rise
And get them to their farm
And merchandise.

And others heard and knew
'Twas God that spake;
Yet wist not what to do,
Which way to take.

O God! for one to stand
Before Thy face,
Holding us by the hand
In supreme grace;

Almighty and all-pure,
All-glorious,
Yet one that can endure
To be like us!

Thy fellow, Lord, and ours;
Ours who aspire
Beyond these mortal powers,
With great desire:

Ours who in flesh are weak,
Willing in soul;
Ours, who are fain to seek
Thee for our goal.

God of Thy Godhead laid
In human shrine;
Man of our manhood made;
Ours, Lord, and Thine.

Oh, calmly went His feet,
Nor swift nor slow;
And in a silence sweet
Was it as though

Wait, hearts of Mine, He said,
Till season due;
Wait, O My quick, My dead,
I come to you.

Now, Lord, the shadows flee
Of night and fear;
The blessed dawn of Thee
Draws very near.

To-day Thou fashionest
A sanctuary,
A temple pure and blest,
Wherein to be.

To-day that lovely shrine
Where Thou shalt dwell
Is reared at will of Thine,
Emmanuel.

He comes, who ne'er began,
Who ne'er shall end,
To speak as Man with man,
As Friend with friend.

He whom no space may gird,
No measure span,
Shall be the Incarnate Word,
Shall be made Man.

V—Her Nativity

Lo! on this day is a little one born who shall grow
Fair to the highest of womanhood, purer than snow.

Sun-fair, and clear as the moon, and as dread as the host
Of a conquering army whose banners have God for their boast.

Into the wilderness barren this Lady shall bring
Scent that is sweeter than summer, and fresher than spring.

Is she the hope of the faithful, the rose of the morn?
Yea, and of her is the Day-star, the Light shall be born.

Blessed is she in her coming, the harbinger sweet
Of One who shall walk with the pierced and conquering feet.

Here in the swaddlings of babehood all helpless she lies;
She who shall bear the Creator of earth and of skies.

Little babe-breast that shall pillow its Maker and feed:
Little babe-hands that shall minister true to His need:

Little babe-heart for the sword in its piercing one day:
Little babe-feet that shall walk on the sorrowful way.

Joy in her, earth, who is fairer and greater than Eve;
Teaching to joy as the other had taught us to grieve.

Mother of all in the One who shall conquer for all;
Bearing the healing of nations, the rise from the fall.

Over this baby the power of the Highest shall come.
Light of the world, Thou shalt spring from the gates of her womb.

Purest of paths, by the feet of the King to be trod!
Hail to thee, Virgin of virgins, thou Mother of God!

VI—Her Annunciation

Hear ye the message, God's earth and the heavens of His might,
Borne by the angel who stands in the infinite light?
Here on the brows of her, here on the breast of her,
Strike her, God's glory, and smite.

How can such terrible worship and honour be laid,
Burden of awe and of anguish, of sorrow and shade,
Weighty on brows of her, heavy on heart of her,
Poor little Nazarene Maid?

Nay, but the power of the Highest will shadow her o'er;
Burning with God, unconsumed by the Flame evermore,
Sharp be her anguish, and bitter her trouble, and
Mighty her sorrow and sore,

God is the infinite Sea on whose waves undefied
Into the port of His will this beloved shall ride,
Hope for the nations and healing and joy for them
Blessedly borne in her side.

VII—Her Annunciation

Many a day, many a year,
The Lord stayed His coming here.

Nowise early, nowise late,
The Lord took our low estate.

One of all His humankind,
God almighty chose to find

His, all His, in body and soul;
Perfect temple pure and whole,

Temple where behoved Him dwell,
Lord of heaven and earth and hell.

Thou, of all creation's host,
Spouse of God the Holy Ghost.

God hath set humility
Very high above the high;

And the soul that hungered
For Himself the Lord hath fed.

Depths of bitter teen and woe
Thou, most holy maid, shalt know.

Heights of grace and joy sublime
Thou, most holy maid, shalt climb.

None thy like since time began;
Mother of God made Man for man.

VIII—Her Visitation

O Virgin overshadowed by His might,
Finite, thou hast conceived the Infinite!

Thy soul is filled with radiance of His morn;
Thy greeting glads His prophet yet unborn.

Serene in joy of Him, the Annunciate,
Strong in thy trust and in thy meekness great,

Thy lips give out thy heart's full song to-day
To live upon His Church's lips alway.

Thee do we bless and honour, royal one;
Twice royal, in thy line, and in thy Son.

Plant of desire that, breathed on by the power
Of God, puts forth perfection for its flower.

Flower of earth's flowers, the fairest and the best,
Bearing the Godhead fruit within its breast.

Thee doth His glory crown, His glory gird;
Glory of God made Man, Incarnate Word:

Oh, glory more than childhood loveliest,
Fed from thy life, and cradled on thy breast:

And glory more than manhood's sanctity,
Unfolded in thine home in sight of thee:

The glory of the Passion and the Cross;
That dreadful glory, O Theotokos;

The blood-red flame that glows to perfect white,
The glory of His resurrection light!

IX—The First Christmas Eve

I

There was no room within the inn for them:
The Woman that beneath her girdle bare
The Hope of all the world, a stranger there
Lay, all that solemn night, in Bethlehem
Within a stable; Jesse's root and stem
Should spring the very morrow strong and fair,
And all the slumbering world was unaware.
We, who still slumber, how shall we condemn?

She lies, all one with God, this holy eve;
She, whose glad eyes will look to-morrow morn
With rapture on the blessed Man-child born;
She, who in three-and-thirty years will grieve,
Pierced to the heart; she, who will yet receive
The garland of the rose without a thorn.

II

Oh, was there never a woman there to say,
Behold, this woman nears her travailing,
And take her by the hand and gently bring
Into a room, and softly speak, and lay

The woman down, and watch by her till day,
When shade should flee and from on high should spring
The Light of Light, for help and comforting?
We, blind and cold, nor dare to blame, nor may.

And yet, if men had felt the throbbing breast
Of night alive with wonder and the fair
Great dawn, they had left their beds all empty there,
Nor cared one whit for any sleep or rest.
We, have not we rejected any guest?
Dismissed the more than angel unaware?

X—Her Purification

Here standeth Purity and Light
As the Maid-Mother moulded,
And in her arms the Infinite,
Her First-born Son, enfolded.

Oh, death to thee for ever, pride,
Who hadst God's way prevented;
When Purity is purified,
And God to God presented.

For Purity will lowly bow
To Law's purification;
And God to God be offered now,
The perfect, one oblation.

XI—Her Offering

Two doves our Lady's offering,
Who hath no lamb to give,
Though it be hers that Lamb to bring
By whom alone we live.

O Lamb of God, who wast to bear
The whole world's sins away;
O very God, presented there,
We bless Thy name to-day.

We worship Thee with joyful awe,
Seeing, this holy tide,
The source of law obey the law;
The pure one purified.

XII—She Seeks Him Sorrowing

Sorrowing Thy mother seeks Thee; sorrowing
Finding Thee,
Asks Thee wherefore Thou hast done this thing.
Can it be
Thou hast proved unkind, O Thou, her Son, her King?
Why must she
Thus already know the piercing and the sting?
Is it He,
Best and Dearest, shall the bitter anguish bring
She must dree?

Know'st thou not, who greatly lov'st thy Lord,
Who hast said,
As the air to that Annunciation chord
Vibrated,
Be it done to me according to thy word;
Held and led
By the Will whose power upon thee should be poured,
Fair and dread?

Oh, that not to know! Must He too know it well?
By and by
He, thy Son, will utter loud the anguish fell
Of that cry,
Why, My God, hast Thou forsaken Me? that knell
Tolled on high,
'Tis the knell of earth's despair doth rise and swell,
Sink and die,
Tolled around, below, for heaven, for earth, for hell,
Verily;
And the answer is the same, Emmanuel,
To that Why.
Yea, the Son shall do the Father's business still;
His design
All the purpose of the Father to fulfil:
Though the brine
Of the wild waves seem to dash above us chill,
His divine
Presence hid behind a cloud of doubt or ill
Unbenign;
Safe within the blessed haven of His will,
'Neath His Eyne;
And the Cross whereon He hung on Calvary hill
Is the Sign.

Once again for three days lost to mortal sight,
Shall He go
(Body of Him in death-grip close and tight,)
Down below,
Where the souls are waiting till His blessed light
He will show;
In the Spirit shall he ope their gates of night,
Speak, and lo!
He, the Light of God, shall make their darkness bright
With His glow:
Purged of sin they stand before Him clean and white;
Him they know,
Him who plunged the deepest depths from highest height,
Loving so.

Know ye not I do My Father's business? yea,
We as she
Fain would ponder all these things of Thine, and pray,
Lord, to be
Willing not to understand, and yet obey
Utterly.
So we do the Father's business day by day,
One with Thee.

XIII—She stands without, seeking to speak to Him

Without the blessed Mother stands:
She of the loving reverent hands
That wrapt our Lord in swaddling bands:

She of the holy brow, the eyes
That saw the light o' the world arise
In her Babe's Face, 'neath Bethlehem's skies:

She who had watched the gates of sense
Expanding fair and, issuing thence,
High wisdom, pure intelligence;

Since on her bosom He was laid;
Hers, whom the Word that all things made,
God's Self, implicitly obeyed.

But now, the ministry begun,
That time for evermore is done,
And she who bare the Eternal Son,

Like any soul that strives to climb
To His obedience' height sublime,
Must stand without and wait His time.

At Cana was the word breathed through
That soul of hers in meekness due,
Whate'er He saith unto you, do;

But first that word of duteous breath
She spake in holy Nazareth,
God's handmaid she, for life, for death,

Her will with God's in blest accord—
Unto the handmaid of the Lord
Be it according to thy word.

That self-surrender absolute,
(Faith's holiest flower, Love's fairest fruit,)
That sealed her God's from head to foot,

Is not annulled: she waiteth meek,
Until the time be come to speak
With her Desire, whom all men seek.

XIV—She stands by His Cross

Lady of the sorrows,
Thou dost know
Agony of agony,
Woe of woe:
All God's waves and billows
O'er thee go.
Was there ever woman
Suffered so?

Mockery in purple
Wrapt Him erst:
Now the dreadful darkness,
Deepest, worst,
Binds Him tight and deadly,
Robe accurst.
Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!
Last and First.

Does she stand in silence
Till the cry
Of the God-forsaken
Rends the sky,

With the piercing anguish
Of its why?
Death of deaths He tasteth
Ere He die.

When the evening husheth
Day's wild stir,
They will bear in linen,
Aloes, myrrh,
Her Beloved to the
Sepulchre;
Him they laid within the
Arms of her.

Then, O Mary Mother,
Wilt thou weep?
Now the day is ended,
God will keep
Watch above thee taking
Rest full deep;
Till thine Easter harvest
Thou shalt reap.

XV—Her Joy of Six

The next good joy that Mary had
It was the joy of six;
To see her own Son, Jesus Christ,
Upon the Crucifix.
Old Carol.

I.

Five of thy joys we think to understand:
Thy bliss to travail of thy Saviour-Son;
Thy joy to look upon the Healing One
Making the lame to go; with helping Hand
Lighting the blinded eyes; thy joy that spanned
An ever-growing girth, when thou hadst known
By the Incarnate Word the Scriptures shown,
And death by life conquered at His command.

And still another joy to thee must come;
Thy dreadful joy of six; to see Him hang
Sin-torn, sin-pierced, sin-fastened on the Tree;
To hear the horror of His cry that rang,
(God's answer by supremest love made dumb)
Why, O My God, hast Thou forsaken Me?

II.

We common lovers, common mothers, we
Can joy to see our well-beloved pour
The glory of their gifts of love, of lore,
Of healing at the Church's feet, and see
His likeness set on them rejoicingly:
But when the deep-fanged lions lift the roar,
And rend and slay the anointed gift-bestower
Is joy the heart's heart of our agony?

Could Mary see His torment and His shame,
Lifted to Love's immeasurable height
Even by the measure of a Cross; and know
Pain lost in joy because of that great sight?
For this, her joy of six, we bless Thy Name,
Father, whose supreme love would have it so!

XVI—Woman, Behold thy Son

Lo, thy son! Thou sayest it, Thou, her Son!
Art Thou no more her Son, henceforth no more?
All love's tender ministry past and o'er?
Why dost Thou say of another, O Blessed One,
Woman, behold thy son?

Does not the motherhood ache till the good be won,
Tendance and comfort and help for the child of her womb?
Lord, is it gone for ever; the season come
For all the sweetness of this to be over and done,
Thou saying, Behold thy son?

O Beloved, O Splendour of Light that shone,
Splendour of splendours, and Light of all lights to see;
Now Thou speakest the words from Thy lifting Tree,
Saying ere yet Thou art veiled by the darkness dun,
Woman, behold thy son!

Nay; in Thy child she has Thee, O Loving One,
Thou in Thy blood-bought Church art manifest;
Thee in Thy child she will clasp to her mother-breast:
Here in her pangs and woe new glory is won,
As she knoweth her son.

Thee she takes and loves in Thy darling, John;
Thou who neededst her once for Thine own dear need
Needest her now in the due of Thy travail, and meed,
Even Thy ransomed Church, to Thy bosom won,
O Firstborn, Eternal Son.

Jesus, now hast Thou given to every one,
Even Thy least as Thy greatest, this Mother of Thine:
Lord, we bless Thy name for the gift divine;
Motherhood never to end, with Thy word begun,
Woman, behold thy son.

XVII—Behold thy Mother

Church of Jesus Christ, thy Bridegroom
Hanging on the Tree,
Spake the words, Behold thy Mother!
In His love, to thee.

So thou hailest her thy Mother
Through the day of strife,
In thy souls who fight their battle
For eternal life.

So thou hailest her thy Mother
In thy souls who lie
Waiting for the bliss to crown them
Whole in purity.

So thou hailest her thy Mother
In each glorious one
Who has heard the lips of Jesus
Speak his benison.

Hast thou Kings for nursing fathers?
Queens for fostering due?
Yea, and she who bore thy Maker
Is thy Mother too.

XVIII—He Appears to His Mother

Sleep, Mary Mother, sleep! O thou, o'er whom
Those awful billows of His Passion rolled,
Sleep while the Shepherd to His underfold
Hath gone, to lighten with His light its gloom:
O Mary, Him thou borest in thy womb,
Thy Child, thy God, full soon thou wilt behold!
And not in vision; no, nor white and cold,
As thou didst leave Him lying in the tomb.

Wake, Mary Mother, wake! What light is shed
Around thee? Oh, not yet the saints astir
May greet God's Easter dawn of ecstasy:
To thee He comes, the Firstborn from the dead;
Thou wilt not seek His empty sepulchre;
Thy Son, thy Love, thy Life, is here with thee.

XIX—Her First Eucharist

It was that lovely day whereon
The King of kings, the maiden's Son,
In broken Bread, in Wine out-poured,
Came lowly to His altar-throne,
According to His will and word.

And she who bare her Lord, and bare
His children in her heart's sweet care,
Took of the Bread which maketh one
With Him and all His ransomed there,
In holiest communion.

That heart whose love so well He wist,
That mouth His childhood brows that kissed,
That soul whose will was Jesus' will,
Received Him in the Eucharist,
Even as His Church receives Him still.

No more within her arms to rest,
No more to need her tending blest,
And yet no faithful bond undone,
The God in flesh made manifest,
Flesh of her flesh, Bone of her bone.

What soul of man can dare to pry
Into this well of mystery,
Wherein He saith by seal and sign,
Spirit to spirit, It is I,
Myself, beneath the Bread and Wine?

Oh, by the grace that stoopeth low,
And by the light that pales the glow
Of meaner light eternally,
And by the love too vast to know—
What can it be, or who, but He?

And if beneath that Bread, that Wine,
He feedeth every soul as thine,
O Mary, with His Body thus;
He giveth not His gift divine
Less unto thee, but more to us.

Yet, though to all He giveth free
His Gift of gifts, it needs must be
The heart His love makes deep and broad
Receives by its capacity
The fullest fulness of its God.

XX—Her Repose

Softly has the soul departed, and the body softly rests,
That was once a lovely hostel for the loveliest of guests.

Must we think our Lady waiteth for the call shall bid arise
To the Judgement of Messiah all His friends and enemies?

Chosen of God to set the human likeness on the Eternal King,
Creature nearest the Creator in that only child-bearing;

Must the body where the Maker took our heartbeats and our breath
See the elemental changes, that for ours He ordereth?

Must the spirit over which God's mighty waves and billows surged
Wait the glory of consummation till the world be healed and purged;

In its place of sweet refreshment, light and peace, by love sustained
Till the day that ushers in the reign for ever to be reigned?

Know ye not, O ye that love her, how her spirit forth was drawn
In the ecstasy of love that set her endless day a-dawn?

And her Son, the King, is coming, when the earth from darkness twice
Rolleth into light, to bring His Mother home to Paradise.

XXI—Her Assumption

Ave, ave, gratia plena! Blessed over all thou art!
He who lay beneath thy girdle sets thee nearest to His Heart!

Now, in strength of Resurrection do thine eyeballs bear the stress
Of the Beatific Vision in its utter perfectness.

Now thou hast thy full fruition in the centre of life and space,
Heart's core of the splendour of splendours, where the Father shows His Face!

Ave, Ave, gratia plena! rapturous greeting high doth swell;
All the choir eternal sings it, led by blessed Gabriel.

Hail, our Lady of the Triumph, with the festal robe and crown;
Lifted into life eternal by the Life on earth laid down!

In the everlasting city, paved with love, with gladness tiled,
He thy Son and thou His Mother, He thy Father, thou His Child,

Satisfied with His likeness, and exceeding glad thereat,
Still the song upon thy lips is thy divine Magnificat.

In the rapture of the will that meets His will in sweet accord,
Thou rejoicest in thy Saviour, thou dost magnify the Lord.

XXII—Eve waiteth for Mary

“Mother of men, uplifted
Through love and grace,
Out of the watching and waiting,
To that fair place
Where the light of lights is shining
From Jesus' Face;

“Thee hath His dying quickened,
His hunger fed;
White art thou washed where floweth
The Royal Red
That gushed from His blessed Body
To death wounded:

“Bruised is the head of the serpent
That bruised His heel;
Floweth the balm of Gilead
For help and weal;
Life to thy sons and daughters
Thy Son doth deal.

“Thou didst follow Him gladly
The way He trod
When He harrowed the dusk of Hades,
And made a road
Of purple splendour and glory
From God to God.

“Wherefore lookest thou, Mother,
So yearning-eyed?
Seekest thou yet some finding,
O glorified?”
“I wait for the Lady of ladies,
The Spirit's Bride!

“She hath known her soft departing
From earth away,
Whose will was ever and alway
Set to obey
That Will which now doth call her
From earth away.

“She heard the welcome summons
Which Michael bare:
Her spirit hath waited happy
In God's sweet where,
Till now doth it glad re-enter
That body fair.

“Oh, I am waiting, waiting
With joy to greet
This One who cometh with lovely
And blessed feet!
Fain would I kneel to kiss them
In welcome sweet.

“The sun will be her clothing,
And she will tread
Upon the moon's white radiance;
And on her head
Will shine a twelve-starred glory
Of love and dread.

“He who hath gone to fetch her
His truth will prove,
Setting her over all creatures;
Enthroned above
The cherubim, first in knowledge,
The seraphs, in love.

“Thrills of her blessed coming
Have passed through me;
Mother of God's forgiveness
Upon the Tree;
Mother of Love embodied
Eternally.

“Child of my strain, my perfect,
My sinless one,
Come in thy peerless honour,
And take thy throne;
Sit, as the great King's Mother,
Next to thy Son.

“And because He will give His darling,
Who willeth as He,
Whatever she choose to ask Him,
I ask of thee,
Oh, pray for His erring children,
Undone by me.”