A Poem to My Goddaughter Grace on Her Baptism
Through tempests trod the timid child,
Cross deserts dry with deathly fire,
O're peaks of stone and valleys lone,
She made her way back to her home.
Through tears she wept and fears she lept,
For she had found a reason why.
And in the secret of her heart,
She knew her father's secret signs...
And her mother kept her ever by.
Into the Depths
Read the Poem again
Put away your devices
Be present and contemplate