Thou art the granite shore where tides hold fast,
The silent sentinel against the storm,
A beacon shining bright whilst shadows cast,
To keep my wandering spirit safe and warm.
I worship not the might of iron hand,
But tender solace found within thy gaze,
The quiet strength upon which I may stand,
To guide me through the labyrinthine maze.
‘Tis not perfection that I hold most dear,
But glimpses of the soul behind the shield,
The hidden doubt, the solitary tear,
To which my heart will absolutely yield.
My noble sovereign, fortress of my mind,
My sensual anchor in the shifting sand,
In thee, a sacred refuge I do find,
The truest love that heaven ever planned.


