As Dew in Aprylle

I sing of a maiden
That is makèles:
King of all kings
To her son she ches.
 
He came al so stille
There his moder was,
As dew in Aprille
That falleth on the grass.
 
He came al so stille
To his moder’s bour,
As dew in Aprille
That falleth on the flour.
 
He came al so stille
There his moder lay,
As dew in Aprille
That falleth on the spray.
 
Moder and mayden
Was never none but she:
Well may such a lady
Goddes moder be.