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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