TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY As the mute nightingale in closest groves Lies hid at noon, but when day's piercing eye Is locked in night, with full heart beating high, Poureth her plain song o'er the light she loves, So, Virgin, ever pure and ever blest, Moon of religion, from whose radiant face, Reflected, streams the light of heavenly grace On broken hearts, by contrite thoughts oppressed -- So Mary, they who justly feel the weight Of Heaven's offended majesty, implore Thy reconciling aid, with suppliant knee. Of sinful man, O sinless Advocate! To thee they turn, nor him the less adore; 'Tis still HIS light they love, less dreadful seen in thee. -- Gerald GRIFFIN born and raised in Limerick, son of a tradesman, was to become a dramatist, novelist and poet, much of his work accomplished in London. Upon returning to Ireland he joined the Teaching Order of the Christian Brothers. His novels depict life in southern Ireland.