A Christmas Poem

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‘I syng of a maiden

I sing of a maiden That is matchless, King of all kings For her son she chose.

He came as still Where his mother was As dew in April That falls on the grass.

He came as still To his mother’s bower As dew in April That falls on the flower.

He came as still Where his mother lay As dew in April That falls on the spray.

Mother and maiden There was never, ever one but she; Well may such a lady God’s mother

BACKGROUND TO THE POEM

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