Verse, I am not Vain to sing of glory
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 your innocence 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, who is certain
that in these lines, your meek splendor and worth
is preserved and extended by its Truth.
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