In a hamlet, painted with Heaven’s glow, Lived a maiden, pure as untrodden snow, A damsel of virtue, young and bright, With heart as a dove, taking flight.
Her grace was a sonnet, in silence penned, In the book of life, an unwritten end, Every morning, by the well she’d dwell, As the sun yawned high, a tale to tell.
An angel, descended from realms unseen, Came to her one day, by the well so serene, His wings wide and radiant, in the morning mist, His message held, in his celestial fist.
“O fair one,” he echoed, in voice so divine, “Chosen by Heaven, in your heart stars align, A message I bring, from the throne so high, For in your humility, virtues lie.”
The maiden, startled yet filled with grace, Looked upon the angel’s luminous face, In her heart, fear took a humble bow, At the well of destiny, she stood now.
“Carry this message in your soul’s sheath, Like a blooming flower beneath a heath, Nourish it with love, grow it with care, Into a future, bright and fair.”
The angel then vanished, as a receding tide, Leaving the maiden at the wellside, Anointed with a purpose, pure and grand, A divine mystery, in her hand.
Through the pages of time, her tale we tell, Of the holy girl, by the enchanted well, Who met an angel at morning’s crest, And wore Heaven’s message on her chest.
Thus, in our hearts, her story fell, Of a girl, an angel, and a well, Inscribed in the rhythm of the divine bell, Echoing still, in every soul’s swell.