Oh, Faerie Queene.

Did your heart break?

Was the pain real?

Did your grief burn destructive,

unrelenting, timeless?


Did you stop loving, unhappy mama?

Did you neglect us, Grandmama Europe?

Of course not.

You were Victoria.

You were Britannia.

Your country needed you.

The Empire needed you.

We needed you.


Forge ahead, Windsor’s Widow.

Cry, but lead.

Grieve but rule.

Your clothing, black.

Mourning black.

Penny Black.


You were young.


Perfect then.

Perfect still.


The splendour of grace.

The blackness of pain.

Frozen in time.