St. Laurence's Night

No comet ever shone on high of yore to show the way,
No mystic star up in the sky, no token on display.

It was a covered track, a secret plot inscribed in sand
That only humble-hearted men detected on the land.

Around a hut had gathered shepherds, farmers, passers-by,
As kings had knelt and dropped their crowns to see and testify.

So few the humble are today, no king is left, no quest,
But all still sift the night to sight a gleam, a sign—gain rest.

Two thousand years have passed awaiting meteors to be found,
The eyes are still upturned—that track still hidden in the ground.