With Every Grace Endued
He leans his high-arced cheek against the carved
Wood decoration by his head. His slim
And slightly, slightly arching nose is starved
Of ugliness, since ugliness for him
Is distant as the depths from heaven’s height.
The anthem pulses in his ribs. He bows
His head in reverence to music’s might.
He’s making silent, throbbing, holy vows
Or thinking of his perfect eyebrows. Yes,
That might be it, for certainly he knows
How beautiful he is. O, let us bless
The Lord, for, where his blond hair, sweeping, flows
Down towards the kneeling bench, curved sweep, sweep, sweep
Of yellow loveliness there makes wings weep.
Written in Windsor just after Choral Evensong, St. George’s Chapel; the hymn was “The Church Has One Foundation,” and the anthem was Parry’s “I Was Glad.”