Sybil (From A 19th Century Headstone) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Sybil attended servant school
Her god, all-powerful and cruel
Spirited off this earthly jewel
Now she is dead, yet beautiful

The willow bowed to see her pass
Dropping soft catkins on the grass
The brown beck was her looking glass
Now she is dead, yet beautiful

At church, when all were gathered in
Her master thundered, raged of sin
Lamb of his flock, cowed by his din
Now she is dead, yet beautiful

No child will suckle at her breast
No lover find his ardour blessed
Briefly awakened, now at rest
For she is dead, yet beautiful

Never to grow to womanhood
Never to know a nesting brood
Never to show decrepitude
For she is dead, yet beautiful

The kingdom of the grave is cold
Here, clouds are clods. Here, sky is mould
Hers is a story quickly told
Sybil, long dead, was beautiful