Elegy For A Queen
The media beast that must be fed
On human fodder hour-by-hour,
Just for one second, checks its power.
Elizabeth, the Queen, is dead.
That this is news no one can doubt.
The airwaves hum, the presses roll.
And cellphones buzz from pole to pole
To get the information out.
We see, we hear, the words strike deep,
And tears unbidden trickle down.
As if we could this knowledge drown
In the blissful ignorance of sleep.
But this is news we can’t unlearn,
News to punctuate an age.
News writ deep on a history-page
The grieving world is loath to turn.
So many living have not known
Another to compare her to.
She wore the only crown they knew,
Soft as a mother, hard as stone.
They came to say their last goodbyes,
From Deeside to the River Thames.
Most precious of the royal gems:
Tears for a Queen in her subjects’ eyes.
The Guardsman stands with lowered head,
And vigil keeps as mourners throng.
The ancient stones join the slow song:
Elizabeth, the Queen, is dead.
Chris Trotter
15 September 2022
Elizabeth ll, I think tried to keep the historic banners aloft, wafted to arouse the spirit of British people, continuing despite the gradual collapse from high-minded belief to low and crass; this to be resisted as an inexorable procession. Her descendant in Charles lll now may share the task with an evocation from the past in the lone wizard Gandalf defending all that has been good with the challenge – ‘You shall not pass’.
Charles the Kook has at least done something for British tradition in his campaign for traditional architecture, can’t say the same for his mother (unless she really did knock Diana off).
Despite the usual responses, I liked your bit of verse Chris and I for one was proud to name her Queen.
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