  Fairest art thou among the fair, Thy graces none but thee can wear; In trailing robes of snowy white, Thou art on earth a gleam of light; Thy cheeks are comely as the rose, Thy neck as white as winter snows; Thy lips are like a scarlet thread, Thy locks like silver on thy head. To him who with thee is in love, Thou'rt meek and gentle as the dove; Virgin, so pure and bold and free, No spot is found at all in thee. Such was thy purity of yore And such 'twill be forevermore. |
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