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!