Anthem

Suppose him to be a person

whose whole faith is in words,

yet at weekday evensong

                      a devout attender,

loving the stained demise

of daylight, as it transfigures

the Gothic walls’ pale stone

                      with watercolour

and the silhouetted wings

spread in the rafters, resounding

to the voices of boys, their

                    polyphonic ascent.

Then consider him to have heard

an anthem one day, the text

being several lines perhaps

                     of his own writing

set to such notes as thwart

the sadness at day’s end

with glory (as it were)

                     oh in excelsis

by a friend to whom a composed

harmony is for the soul

the one lodging, brief but secure,

                    on its brief journey.