How like a timid virgin comes the May,
In verdure robed and crown'd with chaplets sweet
Rifling earth's choicest treasures, to lay
Rich spoils of beauty at Our Lady's feet!
And, her to honor, from her teeming stores
Of leaf and bud, in greening garths and bowers,
Nature her lavish offering outpours
Of delicate blossoms and of fragile flowers.

The south wind whispers and young grasses stir,
Renascent blooms from crypts of winter rise,
Lily and rose awake to worship her
Who is the peerless Rose of Paradise.

Spirits of Spring - crocus and daffodil
And violet and lilac fresh and frail -
At Mary's shrine their fragrance sweet distill
And in her praise their passionate souls exhale.

Madonna! Mother of our Christ and Lord!
Now in the opening year's auroral prime
Heaven and earth in rapturous accord
Hail thee and hymn with canticles sublime.
All innocent things, and all things pure and fair,
Hasten their homage at thy throne to pay;
And we, thy children, come with love and pray'r-
Oh, hear and help us, Lady of the May!

Touch us to harmony with the gracious hours,
And from our lives all discords harsh efface!
Help us to grow in beauty, like the flowers,
Responsive to the Godhead's quickening grace!
Oh, fill us with the season's peace and love,
And guide our feet in virtue's arduous way
That we may tread the paths that lead above
To thy dear Son, O Lady of the May!

P.J. Coleman 


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