“Pure as the snow,” we say. Ah! never flake
Fell through the air
One-tenth as fair
As Mary’s soul was made for Christ’s dear sake.
The whitest whiteness of the Alpine snows,
Beside thy stainless spirit, dusky grows.
“Pure as the stars.” Ah! never lovely night
Wore in its diadem
So pure a gem
As that which fills the ages with its light.
The peerless splendors of the soul by far
Outshine the glow of heaven’s serenest star.