It was my tradition to give, as a prize in the Fighter Auction Tourney at Rowany Festival, a voucher for “one poem, ode or song in style and period as chosen by the bearer”. She Moves So Perfectly is another song composed as a result of this; this one was for Hanbal, in honour of Utë von Tangermunde.
I also did her a limerick:
A fencer from Stormhold named Utë
Fought off with a foil every suitor
Till Hannibal came
And he called off her game,
Explaining, “Together, we’re cuter!”
[Easter 1999]
A daffodil grows beneath the sun, whose golden face
Entices the bee to wander nigh on golden wing.
He gathers within his tiny hands the golden trace
Of honey that is, of all the world, the sweetest thing.
But honey is second in sweetness,
The bee is the second in art,
The sun is the second in warmth and light,
Compared to the gold of this lady’s heart.
The eagle, the lord of all the air, with golden eye
He watches the tiny dragonfly, whose golden dance
Will summon the dawn of every day, the golden sky,
And fill it with joy and nimbleness in bright romance.
But the eagle is second in grandeur,
The dragonfly’s second to start,
The dawn is the second in joyfulness,
Compared to the gold of this lady’s heart.
But honey is second in sweetness,
The bee is the second in art,
The sun is the second in warmth and light,
Compared to the gold of this lady’s heart.