Hilda’s mother had a dream:
She was searching for her husband,
Banished by the Briton king,
And she, searching, could not find him,
Though she looked wherever she could.
And yet it came to pass in her dream
That beneath her garment she found
A jewel, radiant and bright,
Covering all England with its light.
The light was not her daughter, yet
It shone within her, shone into
The hearts of monks and kings and herdsmen;
Those who found it searched no more.
The Consolations of Writing 