The Black Madonna

Not as the white nations
    know thee
        O Mother!

But swarthy of cheek
    and full-lipped as the
        child races are.

Yet thou art she,
    the Immaculate Maid,
        and none other,

Crowned in the stable
    at Bethlehem,
        hailed of the star.

See where they come,
    thy people,
        so humbly appealing,

From the ancient lands
    where the olden faiths
        had birth.

Tired dusky hands
    uplifted for thy
        healing.

Pity them, Mother,
    the untaught
        of earth.