Who is that pale yet stately one,
Robb’d of her royal pride?
The throne, the crown, all from her gone—
The sceptre thrown aside?
Is this the haughty Austrian
That meets each scornful glance?
And will she never reign again
As the proud Queen of France?
Alas! poor, hapless one! thy brow
Is furrowed o’er with care—
For grief has made thy form to bow,
And silvered o’er thy hair!
This day of bitter agony
Has sealed thy doom to die;
Yet not one murmur comes from thee-
No tear drop dims the eye!
Still proud, though not in royal robes,—An excerpt from The Flower Girl and the Queen by Carrie Bell Sinclair. Circa the 1860s. The full poem can be read here.
In truth and virtue strong—
Her only prayer for mercy this,
"Don’t make me suffer long!"