If Mary had known,

As she held him so closely, her own,

Cradling his shining, fair head on her breast,

Sunned over with ringlets as bright as the mom,

That a garland of thorn

On that tender brow would be pressed

Till the red drops would fall

Into eyes that looked out upon all,

Abrim with a pity divine over clamor and brawl,

Oh, I think that her lullaby song ,

Would have died on her lips into wailing impassioned and long!

But—if Mary had known,

As she held him so closely, her own,

That over the darkness and pain he would be

The Conqueror hailed in all oncoming days,

The world’s hope and praise,

And the garland of thorn,

The symbol of mocking and scorn

Would be a victorious diadem royally worn,

Oh, I think that ineffable joy

Must have flooded her soul as she bent o’er her won- derful Boy!

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