Penelope Boothby Poem by Martin Ward

Penelope Boothby
(St. Oswald's Church, Ashbourne)

This fragile flower
that sleeps in marble,
as if to wake
should feather fall
on angel's breath.

Her parents,
bereft, that she
no longer waits
at the mansion gates,
and sits upon her father'sknee
to parlez foreign languages
or recite his poetry.
They ventured all,
and the wreck
was total.

I was not in safety;
neither had I rest
when the trouble came.

She was in form
and intellect
most exquisite.

Sir Joshua Reynolds
painted Penelope
in perfect pose,
and Rousseau shared
his wisdom with this
budding rose.

No farewell,
nor time,
nor place,
Her memory
shall efface.

Beauty shall never fade,
nor love diminish
through passing years.
Angel child,
forever seen
through veils of tears.