The home of a night full of stars, lake of water lilies, and lady who doesn’t smile. What am I?

A dismal space, both cold and bare, where light is scarce and none would dare. With walls of stone and air grown still, its a place that breaks the strongest of wills.

I be a trusty limb, though made of wood and brine, Lost in a scuffle, now I help a pirate climb!

Stalwart giant, reaching high, rooted strong in earth, you scrape the sky. From your lofty perch, horizons unfold, tales of height and strength are told , someone was held captive by me for years in a fairytale.

I lived in faith when empires ruled by sword, not prayer. I crossed seas with devotion in hand, bringing hope to distant shores. Today I stand as a name in calendars, churches, and stories of miracles remembered by many lands.