I Sing of a Maiden

I sing of a maiden
That is matchless,
King of all kings
For her son she chose. 

He came as still
Where his mother was
As dew in April
That falls on the flower. 

He came as still
Where his mother lay
As dew in April
That falls on the spray. 

Mother and maiden
There was never one but she;
Well may such a lady
God's mother be.

--Anonymous, 15th century.