Then, Vanishing Away (Final Version) Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

[on the Legend of the Lady of Shalott]

her face in a dream floats on the waters
or like nebulae among deep stars
in a field of vision
yet unmarred by tears
because it is too still.
where are you she must ask again
of all her years or we may ask
in her stead
though clouds have no answer
nor does the dusk,
dressed in the blue of the departed hours.
is it enough that once you were weaving
all that the heart could sense
from distances, from renunciations
made gladly
until you broke in several pieces
the mirror and the crenellated view
fused in that instant into a valediction
as if all the petals that ever were, were you
blown past suddenly their aprils
into the irretrievable.
not even the legend was ours in the end
in the dedicated schoolroom
from such a delicate web unmoored
you were
though we cried to see
your starlike resolution fade
thinking our childhood tears could save
scattered dewlike on the lawns
of all the ages
and the vigils of dawns unnumbered
or in the antique books
then, vanishing away; we cannot look,
the pages melting like snows

mary angela douglas 26 may 2017 revised 6 june 2017; 7 june 2023