The Lady Of Shalott Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

(for Alfred Lord Tennyson)


space curves back into her embroidery

so that she sees only the work before her

and nothing directly


everything at a slant

or within a thousand veils

or mirrors refracting


shining and shining


and this is art


and where her heart must rest.

and if she strays it will be only into distress

and not the wooded path


bedecked in flowers she imagines

or time filled to the brim with charming hours

but she mistakes


one day distracted is enough to die on

the outward view for the inner

and the path of doom sets in;


the lady floating now between two worlds

receives from Lancelot merely a passing glance

a phrase in the minor key askance


she has a lovely face he muses for a little space

wedded as he is to surface as she was to depth;

irreconcilable! oh beyond mead!


she floats on a river of glass that's breaking now

oblivious toward comprehending Mercy

through Eternities.


mary angela douglas 27 december 2019