Poems (King)/Lady Immaculate
Lady Immaculate
VISION of loveliness, thou sinless one,
Nor bard nor seer thy wondrous worth can tell;
Lady Immaculate, the heart grows faint,
In vain attempt to sing thy virtues high.
Part of eternity's vast circle thou,
Who, linked with Bethlehem's mighty Babe, reposed,
A thought divine, for ages measureless,
Within the bosom of the Father-God.
Bride of the Spirit, ah! but turn on me
The unveilèd splendor of thy heaven-lit eyes,
That—as the earliest golden shafts of dawn
Awake the dreaming lark and bid him trail
Sweet sprays of song through empyrean blue—
This heart beneath the lustre of thy glance
May hymn thy praise, fair Mother of my God.
Nor bard nor seer thy wondrous worth can tell;
Lady Immaculate, the heart grows faint,
In vain attempt to sing thy virtues high.
Part of eternity's vast circle thou,
Who, linked with Bethlehem's mighty Babe, reposed,
A thought divine, for ages measureless,
Within the bosom of the Father-God.
Bride of the Spirit, ah! but turn on me
The unveilèd splendor of thy heaven-lit eyes,
That—as the earliest golden shafts of dawn
Awake the dreaming lark and bid him trail
Sweet sprays of song through empyrean blue—
This heart beneath the lustre of thy glance
May hymn thy praise, fair Mother of my God.
No shade of primal sin that veiled the glow
In Eden's happy skies, thy soul defiled;
Dowered with all gifts, creation's masterpiece,
Hearts sin-swept, Mary, fondly look to thee.
Men call thee lily, but thy life's white page
Doth put to shame the stainless lily-bloom,
And Alpine snow-wreaths, bathed in argent light,
Lose all their dazzling whiteness, matched with thee.
As the lone lake in silent mountain-vale
Gives back the stars that throb in violet depths,
From thy fair form and radiant soul look forth
The gathered graces of the Lord most high.
Christ, the All-Beautiful, thou callest Son,
Ah! at His throne our loving pleader be,
And upward lead our souls, O Maiden blest,
To dwell forever in the smile of God.
In Eden's happy skies, thy soul defiled;
Dowered with all gifts, creation's masterpiece,
Hearts sin-swept, Mary, fondly look to thee.
Men call thee lily, but thy life's white page
Doth put to shame the stainless lily-bloom,
And Alpine snow-wreaths, bathed in argent light,
Lose all their dazzling whiteness, matched with thee.
As the lone lake in silent mountain-vale
Gives back the stars that throb in violet depths,
From thy fair form and radiant soul look forth
The gathered graces of the Lord most high.
Christ, the All-Beautiful, thou callest Son,
Ah! at His throne our loving pleader be,
And upward lead our souls, O Maiden blest,
To dwell forever in the smile of God.