Classic Poem

Dear, honoured name, beloved for human ties,
But loved and honoured first that One was given
In living proof, to erring mortal eyes,
That our poor flesh is near akin to heaven.

Sweet word of dual meaning: one of grace,
And born of our kind Advocate above;
And one, by memory linked to that dear face
That blessed my childhood with its mother-love,

And taught me first the simple prayer: ‘To thee,
Poor banished sons of Eve, we send our cries.’
Through mist of years, those words recall to me
A childish face upturned to loving eyes.

And yet, to some the name of Mary bears
No special meaning and no gracious power;
In that dear word they seek for hidden snares,
As wasps find poison in the sweetest flower.

But faithful hearts can see, o'er doubts and fears,
The Virgin-link that binds the Lord to earth;
Which, to the upturned trusting face, appears
Greater than angel, though of human birth.

The sweet-faced moon reflects, on cheerless night,
The rays of hidden sun that rise to-morrow;
So, unseen God still lets his promised light,
Through holy Mary, shine upon our sorrow.