The Virgin

. Mother! whose virgin bosom was uncrost With the least shade of thought to sin allied. Woman! above all women glorified, Our tainted nature's solitary boast; Purer than foam on central ocean tost; Brighter than eastern skies at daybreak strewn With fancied roses, than the unblemished moon Before her wane begins on heaven's blue coast; Thy image falls to earth. Yet some, I ween, Not unforgiven the suppliant knee might bend, As to a visible Power, in which did blend All that was mixed and reconciled in thee Of mother's love with maiden purity, Of high with low, celestial with terrene!