Our Lady Of Czestochowa, Queen Of Poland Poem by James Mullaney

Scarred by two red gashes in ebony
the Black Madonna assays her demesne.
Still Poland's protectress, still Poland's Queen,
She safeguards and defends the history
of a proud land, imbued with majesty.
When a base Hussite slashed her blackened mien
blood beads dappled the countenance serene.
That brigand perished in ignominy.
In time to come, whatever may befall,
Her shrine will be Poland's loveliest school.
You pilgrims to Czestochowa, come call!
Come saint and sinner, knave and holy fool.
Whether on earth's stoop or in heaven's hall
all must adore at Mary's mercy stool.