Christmas 1904

Dear Mother of the blessed One;
O gate of their return
Who look to heaven, whence the Sun
Shone forth, O star that dost upon the waste of waters burn!

Thy fainting people, else undone,
Through thee aspire to rise
To Him thou bearest, Source and Son,
Thy Holy Child; while nature wonders from a million eyes

O Mother-maid inviolate,
Today and evermore
Sin-soiled and weary children wait
On thee, their hope, O sacred gate; O ever open door!
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.