In a peaceful field sewn with stones
A wingéd watcher waits.
Her gentle gaze graces all souls,
Follow to the resting place.
Notre Dame Cathedral looks over her daughters,
One snuggled between dame and Sainte-Chapelle.
There, the face of the Son
watches o’er his flock.
Beyond a Dauphine, the blue ribbons
Diverge, making way for man and beast.
An assassin’s victim struck a shrewd bargain
To acquire a city.
The treasure lies beneath the mount.