In Praise of Mary

For the Month of May

I fain would sing a sweet new song

Thy loving Heart to greet,

I fain would cull the flowers fair,

And lay them at thy feet.

And of the precious virgin-gold

And shining jewels rare,

Would form a royal diadem, 

To grace thy forehead fair.

But ah! The heart-strings seem unstrung

And faint the music now,

I cannot place a golden crown

Upon thy queenly brow.

The first flowers fade too soon --

What shall the offerings be

From this poor exiled child of earth

O purest Heart, to thee?

I offer all the burning love

Of Jesus' Heart for thine,

And in the golden censer place

The little spark of mine.

And these, O Heart Immaculate,

Shall be my gifts to thee;

Oh I pray thy sweetest Son to grant

His love and thine to me.

- Anon
Taken from Volume I of the Carmelite Review, 1893, August Edition

Gifts

Don't forget to look! 

Wonder is everywhere, little gifts from God -- like when your Mom leaves a note in your lunchbox with hearts on it and a twinky. But better.

May!

The Month of Mary

A LITTLE LITANY

When God turned back eternity and was young,

Ancient of Days, grown little for your mirth

(As under the low arch the land is bright)

Peered through you, gate of heaven – and saw the earth.

Or shutting out his shining skies awhile

Built you about him for a house of gold

To see in pictured walls his storied world

Return upon him as a tale is told.

Or found his mirror there; the only glass

That would not break with that unbearable light

Till in a corner of the high dark house

God looked on God, as ghosts meet in the night.

Star of his morning; that unfallen star

In that strange starry overturn of space

When earth and sky changed places for an hour

And heaven looked upwards in a human face.

Or young on your strong knees and lifted up

Wisdom cried out, whose voice is in the street,

And more than twilight of twiformed cherubim

Made of his throne indeed a mercy-seat.

Or risen from play at your pale raiment’s hem

God, grown adventurous from all time’s repose,

Of your tall body climbed the ivory tower

And kissed upon your mouth the mystic rose.

– G.K. Chesterton