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William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. (1878–1962). Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1920.

Ave

THE POMP of capitals long left to rust

Glows in her flesh and her ironic eyes.

Gazing on her, old pageantries arise

Of queens and splendid courtesans, whose lust

Was power to loot a peacock throne, or thrust

Satraps to battle for their beauty’s prize.

Thus Theodora flaunted, and none otherwise

La Pompadour and Lais gone to dust.

Her wit is a keen weapon wrought for war

Against the grayness of democracy.

No broadsword this, but a bright scimitar,

Tempered in flame and edged with subtlety.

Her art is life; in braver days than this

She would have throned it with Semiramis.

Ainslee’s Magazine