This is a poem for our dearest darling Ainia,
Brighter than the clear full moon of dear Lady Ourania,
And though sometimes she tends towards some worrying sort of mania,
Nothing will change the fact that we all love our dear Ainia.

Housemistress, grandmother, Leath'ri and wife,
She guides each of us through our personal strife,
She's done this with a gentle hand for a hundred long hard years -
She pours her heart into everything with blood and sweat and tears.

These words try to show how great she is,
And though I'm sure Lord Neraeos would say she's His,
The Sylvans do lay claim to her, our grandmother to all,
And with her at our ship's helm we all stand proud and tall.

Happy 100th Birthday, dearest Ainia!

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Scarlatan, in the year 417 AF.