(Founder of Modern Bards)
The beauty of her face and form is only
The chrysalis that cloaks her gracious soul.
Compassion bids her give the weak and lonely
The manna of her love to make them whole.
Though she has walked through corridors of sorrow
And felt the cruel javelins of pain,
Always the promise of a glad tomorrow
Has fringed her clouds with silver, dropped blue rain.
The years have yielded richly from their coffers
The jewels of truth and wisdom that impart
Their deep fire-opaled luster; now time proffers
Its greatest wealth, an understanding heart.
Within its shrine faith's candle ever glows,
And One abides whose timeless love she knows.
