Sunday 26 April 2009

A Sunday Lyric

I sing of a maiden
That is makeless
King of all kings
To her son she ches
He came all so still
Where his mother was
As dew in April
That falleth on the grass.
He came all so still
To his mother's bower
As dew in April
That falleth on the flower.
He came all so still
Where his mother lay
As dew in April
That falleth on the spray.
Mother and maiden
Was never none but she
Well may such a lady
God's mother be.


makeless - without a mate/beyond compare
ches - chose