Each Realm has its Angels

Every science knows genius
And politics statesmen
Each realm has angels
Each cliff its sirens

Each movement has yearning
All ages have doubts
Cities lie burning
Proud armies seek routs

Each mouth wants conquering
Each dress laid aside
Resistance loves faltering
Where hands sometimes glide

Victorian girls do not speak the unspeakable. But they sometimes write it.

This is a ‘lost’ poem included in The Salt Island Diaries