You, I know, are

Brighter than star -

Lighter than sun -

Light, having more fun

Than devil-may-care

People who wear

Out so soon,

Fade in the moon.

Sadless, your joy.

Now as a boy

Grown up, you play

Through unshadowed day

At gay games, and love

Christ, all gold, above

The holy throng

Of friends

You are at peace among.


Beatus servus, found

Watching when the sound

Of trumpets brought you forth

From the old Saxon north

And you were led into

The flower land where you

Go crowned

And dressed in great jewels,

The presents from the poor

Looked-down-on churls

You nourished with

Bread and truth,

While you withstood

Hard elderman or

Broken-worded thane.

The patient lutes you strung

After you were flung

Into the mud

Made music

Which goes on and on.

So where you are

Brighter than star

Light, the lutes play on.


Strange, dear Dunstan, that

You should be given me at

New London, a real

Present, always to last,

Not lost like the stuffed

Peter Rabbit I suffered

Alone for. With you

I am always new.

Together we shall

Be happy, and all

Good things shall come true.

In the in-between

Time be, if unseen,

Still my friend

Until the waiting moments end.

Why should I ask? You are

And will be what you were,

Close to God, yet close to me,

And I have no need to be

Wondering if you care.

Love is a constant prayer.

So you, who wrote poems too,

Who saw Our Blessed Lady there

At Canterbury, where

In another place

I went to school,

Will ask her to be mindful of my soul

That I may remain true

To loving God and her and, Dunstan, you.