Never a lady did He choose,
Only a maid of low degree,
So humble she might not refuse
The carpenter of Galilee.
A daughter of the people, she.
Out she sang the song of her heart.
Never a lady so had sung.
She knew no letters, had no art;
To all mankind, in woman's tongue,
Hath Israelitish Mary sung.
And still for men to come she sings,
Nor shall her singing pass away.
'He hath filed the hungry with good things'—
O listen, lords and ladies gay—
'And the rich He hath sent empty away.'
��884 Punctilio
LET me be in loving nice,
Dainty, fine, and o'er precise,
That I may charm my charmed dear
As tho' I felt a secret fear
To lose what never can be lost,
Her faith who still delights me most!
So shall I be more than true,
Ever in my ageing new.
So dull habit shall not be
Wrongly call'd Fidelity.
