Kyria Sophia

Long years I kept behind my castle wall, My ramparts guarded warily withal. My neighbors, who conspired toward my fall Would find my moat was deep, my towers tall. My walls were stout and arrow-slits were small. The air was dim and stifling in my hall, No step, no voice, no song or cup at all And only echoes echoing to my call, But I was my own lord, and not a thrall.

Then She broke through! Fair as the moon, ablaze like the noonday sun, Terrifying, a many-bannered host. By tender violence I was unmade. My crossbow clattered down from nerveless hands; Rafts swarmed my moat, my tall portcullis split; With roars and billowing dust my walls were breached. A mightier than I became my Liege.

She ground my fort to dust and digged anew. My fetid moat, back in its ancient bed, Streams sparkling life; spring flowers of every hue Begem its soft-grassed banks; and in the stead Of my stout keep, a Tree, whose windy breadth Of worldspread branches shelters bird and beast; Whose apple blossoms promise death to death, And in whose light we neighbors lay a feast.