The Virgin by William Wordsworth (b. 1770- d. 1850)
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! (source)
~Read more on Our Lady as Wordsworth describes her: our tainted nature’s solitary boast, here.
~Image: The Blessed Virgin Mary, The Divine Shepherdess, New Mexico, May 2020. Posted with gratitude to the photographer, M. Smith.
