(1770-1850 / Cumberland / England)

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The Virgin

. 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!

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004


Read poems about / on: mother, women, ocean, woman, nature, power, moon, heaven, rose, sky

Comments about this poem (The Virgin by William Wordsworth )

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  • Francis Sagnol (8/6/2006 6:11:00 AM)

    praises and raises Her

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