I see your Face of Mercy and Beauty.
Your heart is in your Brow and balances
love of thought with love of humility.
In such a disappearance of Pride, what
tell you of Service to the Unworthy,
those who Raped innocent truth filthily
and in poor measure? What of the haughty
whose sins are a Perpetration of Sloth
of spirit? Of vacant sense and grossil-
oquence? Verse, you are my Refuge and Saint.
I, your child, your false copy, and yet certain
that my caste might sing your Traits and so better
itself by imitating your Glory.
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