Queen Henrietta Maria

IN the lone tent, waiting for victory

She stands with eyes marred by the mists of pain

Like some wan lily overdrenched with rain:

The clamorous clang of arms, the ensanguined sky

War's ruin, and the wreck of chivalry

To her proud soul no common fear can bring:

Bravely she tarrieth for her Lord the King

Her soul a-flame with passionate ecstasy.