I sing of a maiden

I sing of a maiden

That matchless is.

King of all Kings

Was her Son iwis.

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 flower.

He came all so still,

Where His mother lay

As dew in April

That formeth on spray.

Mother and maiden

Was ne'er none but she:

Well may such a lady

God's mother be.