*From high above, I see the muse,
who stirs the bishop’s heart alight,
she sends her gospels through valley’s wide,
like knight’s swollen dreams suffuse.
I see the muse dressed in white,
with a few threads of silk blue,
reflecting the sea’s luminous tide
as hues of life’s grace accrue.
If only I had seen you from below, muse;
when horse-drawn carriages and mines
were the only solace I could view,
I would have witnessed the glimmer of daily tides
and ceased to kneel on a silver rug.
Yet here I stand, with gleaming eyes
as bright and vivid as your garment white.
I see a future once more, and value
the opaque tides I once saw.*