Her name bestows Her crown,
and glints of greater gold
than the sun, pressed and rolled,
above a circlet of sparrow down.
Her laugh ends the angels’ strain,
lulling their holy harps to hush;
Her smile causes the roses to blush
and polishes the stars’ silver train.
All auric anadems mar Her head
for they displace Her aureole
with paltry pyrite bare of soul,
an anathema, in its stead.
God alone could adorn and bless
with singular beauty such a princess.