Naomi cries for joy because
A child now rests at her breast;
The mother and her child eat –
The oil is still pouring;
The widow offers up her coins,
The all she has to give, for He
Is her all in all.
And all the lowly ones lift up
Their heads to see Him come to them:
The widows shout, the builders smile,
The arrow quiver now is full!
You who die in riches, look:
The widow’s face now shines.
The Consolations of Writing 