Poetry of Issue #7        Page 3

Prinzessin Frederike von Preussen

Could she be prettier, with her small mouth
And overbite, that ribbon in her hair?
What man, not yet abstracted from his youth
Would fail to fall in love with her?
Her terra cotta head, by J.G. Schadow,
Preserves her for our scrutiny, apart,
A blossom isolate in a meadow,
Awaiting only the untimely heart.

Were you ever loved, my dear, as you deserved?
(Is anybody?) Let me digress:
How we’ve lived and loved, when and whom we’ve served
Is indifferent matter to a princess,
And so in reverence before you stands,
In adoration and humility,
One who would fain have obeyed your commands
Down to the last bleat of eternity.