Classic Poem

She rode resolved and amain,
She rode for many a year,
A vagabond and scholar queen
Whose body knew no fear
(Her fear was of the spirit pent
For madness dogged her as she went),
She chose the foam for outrider
And the wind for cavalier.

Became she poet? She became
Empress, and in a line
Of oldest lineage she was first
Of ladies that must shine;
To her deserted spouse returned —
Returned, at what a cost! —
Mute, mute she wore her dazzling thorns,
But all dear things she lost.
For chance among her nearest kin
Strange havoc did contrive;
In blood of all whom she held dear
The gods made horror thrive;
Brothers and sons were shamed and shot,
Or sisters burned alive.
She stared into Fate's eyes accurst
And, seeing no glint divine,
Closed her wise tragic lips, this first
Of ladies that must shine.
Ah, dolour that might never speak! ...
Yet, as the herd-boy on the peak
Gathers the forest's roar and shade
Into the pipe he idly made,
So in this ditty even I
Would murmur all that mighty sigh!