Immaculate Conception

A maiden flower stands lonesome on a vast and
          desolate plain, in trembling fear that
          her longings for life and love prove vain.

But the passing breeze takes pity, it embraces
          some flowering plant and carries its golden
          riches to the bride of the desolate land.

Windstirred she tosses her clustering hair to the
          dust of golden glow, and flower-starred with
          the waxing morn the desolate meadows grow.