Hail, maid and mother, strong and bright, Hooded and cloaked and shod with white, Whose eyes are stars that match the morn. Thy forehead braves the storm's bent bow, Thy feet enkindle stars of snow. Through skies the morning scarce may climb.
Thine eyes are thick with heavy tears, But lit with hopes that light the year's.
No race of wild things winged or finned May match the might that wings thy wind Through air and sea, through scud and spray. Strong joy and thou were powers twin-born Of tempest and the towering morn. Praise him, the flower of all thy flowers. And sweeten till each word they say Is even a flower of flowering May. JUNE Strong June, superb, serene, elate With conscience of thy sovereign state Untouched of thunder, though the storm Scathe here and there thy shuddering skies And bid its lightning cross thine eyes With fire, thy golden hours inform Earth and the souls of men with life That brings forth peace from shining strife. And midnight's rapturous plenilune.