Crystal Palace Poem by Jerome Brooke

Near the centre, near Saint Peters,
Stands the Crystal palace,
In the palace, near the silver fountain,
Sleeps our Queen, all in lace.

Thru halls of silver, and bright gold,
Proceeds our noble Queen,
Leading her knights and great lords,
Trailing her robe of green.

Above the black towers, dark clouds gather;
Red banners wildly toss.
Our Lady of Swords calls out to the mailed ranks,
Pale Legions of the Lost.

Gates of iron slam shut, under the blue stars,
Cohorts of the moon.
Our legions, in red, march to red death,
On the morn, so soon.

In her palace of crystal, waits our Lady,
Our victorious Queen.
She weeps for one in her distant legion,
No more to be seen.