A Song for Caitlin
God’s earth is full of beauty, that I know; It scintillates and dances in my eyes, His laughter rolls and rings and multiplies, And makes the turning vistas chime and glow— But little peace it grants me, even so: I cannot cling to bright salvation’s prize; The Heaven-light that lights my way soon dies, For want of faith (perhaps) through which to flow. And yet my world holds hope and purity; Our Lady’s Son redeemed the depths of Hell— And traces of her grace I still can see, Like sun-sparked droplets from a silver well: This medal round my neck which is, to me, Three strands of hair from my Galadriel.
