Lady of mystery, most lovely queen,
The sculptured beauty of thy quiet head
Defies the whirl of time: remote, serene,
Thy thoughts keep endless vigil with the dead.
Thy small, wise smile mocks with amused disdain
Our restless moods of laughter and distress,
Proudly indifferent to bliss or pain.
Immortal in thy chiselled loveliness.
So coldly exquisite, so proudly wise
Thy beauty is — yet had I power to make
Life flash quicksilver swift to thy dark eyes
That haunting glory never should awake.
Lovely in death — how should I summon thee
Back to life’s restless insecurity?
Marion would be sixteen in June. ‘Restless insecurity’ is apt enough description of her own state. J.S.