I Sing of a Maiden

I sing of a maiden

That is makeles;

King of all kings

To her son she ches.

He came al so still

There his mother was,

As dew in April

That falleth on the grass.

He came al so still

To his mother's bour,

As dew in April

That falleth on the flour.

He came al so still

There his mother lay,

As dew in April

That falleth on the spray.

Mother and maiden

Was never none but she;

Well may such a lady

Goddes mother be.