Joy V. Sheridan writes

The Garb and Apparel 

What lace and ermine she doth wear 
But in her eyes, look to see her despair 
Only in a material way – has she come a ghost to lay? 
Look through the skeins of her long black hair 
Now that, in memories, tensions she wishes to repair 
To some icy citadel shelved in the clouds.

But listen to her sobbing! 
She thinks it is muted, but it is loud – 
What pomp and circumstance: 
She waves, and weaves a banner with which 
Her departed love – She, if only she, could save

But with the drawing in of cloth 
The winds of the moment seem to respond and list 
All about in the foxglove hand of that silence which is so loud

What fabric is cast from her bower! 
But the petals fall, by the minute to hour 
Of what essences’ fragrance her soul 
A sense of the scent tomorrow 
Bathed in gold, mottles with lichen that tower 
Wherein her Muse does lie

What now? To sleep with a woven lullaby 
Her tresses long fill an invisible script 
With which some author had deemed to shift; 
Dense is this cloak of hair; 
Now the ermine and lace she pulls to cover in herself, 
The sorrow she has to bear. 
Rest you now in the morning mist 
And close your eyes to lover’s kiss. 


Elizabeth I -- Nicholas Hilliard