For, born of winter snows,
These fragile flowers
Are gifts to our fair Queen
From Spring’s first hours.
For on this blessèd day
She knelt at prayer;
When, lo! before her shone
An Angel fair.
“Hail, Mary!” thus he cried,
With reverent fear:
For, born of winter snows,
These fragile flowers
Are gifts to our fair Queen
From Spring’s first hours.
For on this blessèd day
She knelt at prayer;
When, lo! before her shone
An Angel fair.
“Hail, Mary!” thus he cried,
With reverent fear: