If my praise her grace effaces,
Then ’tis not my heart that showeth,
But the skilless tongue that soweth
Words unworthy of her graces.
Tongue, that hath me so betrayed,
Were my heart but here displayed,
Then were sung her fitting praises.
“Often it’s only when you tell something that you come to see its true shape. I believe this to be one of life’s great lessons. Thus nightly I narrate my story to the generations of kinfolk gathered around my hearth — really a hot-plate and the TV with the sound turned down.”
Edmond Caldwell