Upon a lofty throne I saw a man seated
Whom a host of angels adore singing in unison.
This all I can see, he has created.
But can I put all doubt to confusion.

I dreamt that I was lonely.
Standing at the end of a deep pit.
Myself still only.
All was grey grit.

My children came.
I could move with them on shoulders.
Flowers now made that place aflame.
We were now of a future beholders.

But now I was old, my path strewn with boulders.
I could only move on their shoulders.