ALL is divine which the Highest has made, Through the days that He wrought, till the day when He stay'd; Above and below, within and around, From the centre of space, to its uttermost bound. In beauty surpassing the Universe smiled, On the morn of its birth, like an innocent child, Or like the rich bloom of some delicate flower; And the Father rejoiced in the work of His power. Yet worlds brighter still, and a brighter than those, And a brighter again, He had made, had He chose; And you never could name that conceivable best, To exhaust the resources the Maker possess'd. But I know of one work of His Infinite Hand, Which special and singular ever must stand; So perfect, so pure, and of gifts such a store, That even Omnipotence ne'er shall do more. The freshness of May, and the sweetness of June, And the fire of July in its passionate noon, Munificent August, September serene, Are together no match for my glorious Queen. O Mary, all months and all days are thine own, In thee lasts their joyousness, when they are gone; And we give to thee May, not because it is best, But because it comes first, and is pledge of the rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AMORETTI: 34 by EDMUND SPENSER FOR THOSE AT SEA; HYMN by WILLIAM WHITING SONNET: BARBERRIES by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A REMEMBERED FACE by EDMUND JOHN ARMSTRONG ON A FOUNTAIN AND ITS ARCHITECT by PHILIP AYRES THE BRIDES' TRAGEDY: ACT 2, SCENE 1 by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |