Lincoln Cathedral Choir

Once on a time we climbed Steep Hill and stood

before the quiet carvings in the choir.

For you loved poetry spelled out in wood:

the angels, pipes, the King, the drum, the lyre,

miserichords of toughened heart of oak…

Among these masterpieces, stall to stall,

each craftsman added his religious joke,

till plague arrived and put an end to all.

So here and there, some blocks are chisel-spared,

abandoned, lumpen logs, or if you will

are limitless potentials, left prepared

for handy chance and time to shape skill.

Since chance is quite as infinite as time

perhaps we’ll go again, up that steep climb.