The Linden Tree

There stood in heav’n a linden tree,

But, though ’twas honey-laden,

All angels cried, ‘No bloom shall be

Like that of one fair maiden.’

Sped Gabriel on wingèd feet,

And passed through bolted portals

In Nazareth, a maid to greet,

Blest o’er all other mortals.

‘Hail Mary!’ quoth the angel mild,

‘Of womankind the fairest:

The Virgin ay shalt thou be styled,

A babe although thou bearest.’

‘So be it!’ God’s handmaiden cried,

‘According to thy telling.’

Whereon the angel swiftly hied

Up homeward to his dwelling.

This tiding filled his mates with glee:

’Twas passed from one to other,

That ’twas Mary, and none but she,

And God would call her Mother.