Oh, Spinesreach, city where I live,
Where magic and science entwine,
Where cold winds surcease never give,
Whose Citizens rise to Divine

I sing of your towers from high on your spires,
Of your streets and your markets so fair,
Of your Guilds, pressing onward, of warm, toasty fires,
My comrades, whose victories we share.

I sing of your history, so long and so proud,
Your victories and your defeats,
Nor triumphs nor tragedies, valleys or peaks,
Lay hidden 'neath deceptive shroud

I sing of your future, so bright and so near,
Our potential, so vast and untold,
As Archivist, Shadow-mage, Syssin revere
The forward march, onward, so bold!

Oh, Spinesreach of the frigid lands,
This poem I pen for to say
The labor of our joined hands
Ensures that by thy side I stay.

Penned by my hand on Quensday, the 21st of Lleian, in the year 509 MA.