Poetry

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TO CROWN THE QUEEN OF MAY

 

We hunted through the mountains,

The meadows and the town

To find some shining jewels

To make our Queen a crown.

 

We dug the earth for diamonds

And polished them with care;

But vanquished was their luster

When laid within her hair.

 

The seven seas we sounded,

And strained the densest sands

To find a pearl to rival

The whiteness of her hands.

 

The glowing gold was blackened

When brought before her feet.

And silver in her shadow

Was sordid as the street.

 

The emeralds lost their greenness

Like plants who knew not rains.

And rubies paled like warriors

Who fall with bursting veins.

 

Twas then that we remembered

How men were once in awe

To see a Babe of beauty,

Whose jewels were some straw.

 

So we went and robbed a manger,

And crowned the Queen of May

With a wreath that we had woven

From homely strands of hay.

 

T.H. Cosgrove

Robert, Cyril. Our Lady's Praise in Poetry. New York: Marist Press, 1944.