The Woman That Cried in the Crowd

She says within: "It is a man,
  A man of mother born;
She is a woman--I am one,
  Alive this holy morn."
Filled with his words that flow in light,
  Her heart will break or cry:
A woman's cry bursts forth in might
  Of loving agony.
"Blessed the womb, Thee, Lord, that bore!
  The breast where Thou hast fed!"
Storm-like those words the silence tore,
  Though words the silence bred.
He ceases, listens to the cry,
  And knows from whence it springs;
A woman's heart that glad would die
  For this her best of things.
Yet there is better than the birth
  Of such a mighty son;
Better than know, of all the earth
  Thyself the chosen one.
"Yea, rather, blessed they that hear,
  And keep the word of God."
The voice was gentle, not severe:
  No answer came abroad.