Posted on Wednesday, 27 September 2000
Her heroes need not perfect molding,
Nor thrashed in words a brooding.
Silent they never be to whom they hold
Forever encased in their magnanimous folds.
Austen's ladies need not eyes mercilessly sparkling,
For their souls are deep, their words well faring.
In minds and wisdom that need not excuses
Their means and meaning never misses.
Scenes of gentle, blessed wooing
Should not be bent to one's fooling.
For when one toys with love's perfection,
In the end, it displays imperfect speculation.
The human condition Lady Austen recognize
Thus in her books we need not surmise.
Conjectures and guesses we need not drink
For her wit and her too-shortened ink,
Hath shown to all those who think
To sit and read her words of wit's brink.
That tender love and shy but true soul
Must never be harshly displayed, alas, and be afoul.
In the end, it is the simplest fare,
Presented with respect and tempered with care,
That harnesses the eternal flame
Of the Human heart and beloved's name.