Eos and Cornipsis

And one day, out of Heaven knows what material, he spun the beast a wonderful name, and from that moment it grew into a god and a religion.

Wherever on this earth I roam
a pair of deities are found:
Great Eos, goddess of the dawn,
Cornipsis, god of traffic sound.

In yet another far hotel
the moment when the curtain's drawn
there to my eyes she manifests,
Great Eos, goddess of the dawn.

When lost again in foreign streets
I hear his comfort all around
as constant as when I was born,
Cornipsis, god of traffic sound.

Great Eos feeds the world its light,
a world Cornipsis fast destroys.
In every land they turn their trade,
the gods of dawn and traffic noise.

Thomas Cantilupe

This was in my head today.

I have no patron saint.  But if I should
I doubt that Doubting Thomas would be him.
Though well he worked with what he understood,
I cannot emulate my eponym:
too squeamish still to press your bloody palms,
too cowardly to bear the cross you bore.
too blind to fall and sing believing psalms.
With other saints called Thomas, all the more.
But then there's Thomas Cantilupe's career,
So concrete:  he was born in 1218,
was chancellor of Oxford for a year,
gave countless counsellings to king and queen
and years of selfless service to his see;
and lives today recalled by God, and me.