Edgar Allan Poe

       At morn- at noon- at twilight dim-
       Maria! thou hast heard my hymn!
       In joy and woe- in good and ill-
       Mother of God, be with me still!
       When the hours flew brightly by,
       And not a cloud obscured the sky,
       My soul, lest it should truant be,
       Thy grace did guide to thine and thee;
       Now, when storms of Fate o'ercast
       Darkly my Present and my Past,
       Let my Future radiant shine
       With sweet hopes of thee and thine!