I sing of a maiden That is matchless, King of all kings For her son she chose. He came as still Where his mother was, As dew in April That falleth on the grass. He came as still To his mother's bower, As dew in April That falls on the flower. He came as still Where his mother lay, As dew in April That falls on the spray. Mother and maiden There was never one but she Well may such a lady God's mother be."