Poem: Hildegard von Bingen

Hail, O greenest branch,
sprung forth in the airy breezes
of the prayers of the saints.
So the time has come
that your sprays have flourished:
hail, hail to you,
because the heat of the sun has exuded from you
like the aroma of balm.
For the beautiful flower sprung from you
which gave all parched perfumes
their aroma.
And they have radiated anew
in their full freshness.
Whence the skies bestowed dew upon the pasture,
and all the earth was made joyful
because her womb
brought forth corn,
and because the birds of the firmament
built their nests in her.
Then there was harvest ready for Man
and a great rejoicing of banqueters,
whence, O sweet Virgin,
no joy is lacking in you.
Eve rejected all these things.
Now let there be praise to the Highest.