Trembling before the fading image,
Her hands tight within her lap,
The young girl rose in high fever
To discover that it was no dream.
Angel, devil, man or beast--
Her mind could not discern
His lofty way and gentle look
Could have their birth in evil.
To bear a son--not just a son,
But a godly one from Heaven--
When never touched and soon betrothed
Such talk could bear no reason.
But in her heart, despite the fear,
She understood his odd request
Was borne of good and for the world
To die in sorrow, to live in death.
Her nervous heart beat in throbs
Over this news she must reveal
Quite carefully to trusting parents
And a carpenter whose passion waits.
Smoothing out her modest veil,
And calmly, on those tired feet,
She goes to explain the impossible
And goes to crown a serpent's head.
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