Here's a poem I wrote 40 years ago. It's more hi-falutin' than anything I'd put my name to today, but it is a Duchess who's speaking. Picture one of those grandiose 17th century tombs with marble or alabaster effigies of the deceased kneeling on top.
The Duchess And Her Statue
A generation sees
My tawdry pass from mind.
Men learn what verities
Of statecraft lurked behind
The perished fripperies.
Another has her season.
My much vaunted beauty
By the artist's treason
Is resolved to stone.
By his grace alone
I who held in fief
A state must hold my fame.
I have changed my name.
He has named me "Grief".
P.S. I won't be replying to comments for a few days because- ha- I'm going to a wake.