After enjoying all those deep posts on modesty, though not necessarily because of them, I came up with a sonnet to Our Lady under one of the many wonderful invocations of the Litany of Loretto, which seems apt for the pianists because we play on it all the time.

Turris Eburnea

Thy glory is too great for pen to write,
Thy heart too high for mortal speech to say;
Thy grace too grand, thy soul too shining white
For us to praise, who are too poor to pray.

Our voices dare not sing to thee, whose song
Was the Magnificat; O how can we,
Without a fear of offering some wrong
To such a singer, sing thee worthily?

Nay, wordless is our prayer; on gleaming keys
Of that material made more noble by
The name thou'rt given in the prophecies,
We let our hands, to give thee honor, fly,

And name thee Lady of our minstrelsy,
Queen of our keyboards, Tower of Ivory.

Oct. 19, 2009