Oh Elizabeth the faire
sweet as the roses that grow for her
each summer.
That sends her senses
into a whirl of magic
that only beauty such as hers
could think to enhance.

Last spring
thee faire Elizabeth won may queen.
And came with it was a garland of flowers
to crown her pretty golden head.
Almost as if those flowers,
could grow so beautiful
from that perfect head of hair.

Men would look upon her
and dream that she was theirs
for she was a physical goddess in their eyes.
Her loveliness
would inspire poets and story writers
for years to come;
and Elizabeth the faire
spoke not of it.
Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Alas, years went by
And faire Elizabeth
was made to marry a man who
cared not for beauty or purity.
For sweet Elizabeth would have picked a ripe fruit.
But instead, she was handed this rotten apple.
Although, in the eyes of merry England
she was the greatest girl ever to live
but she was still a girl; so thus, she married
him, much against her will.

Spring melted into summer and summer melted into autumn.
Until years went by, and faire Elizabeth
faded into the background, amongst the other ordinary wives.
But she was still fertile and beautiful; and she bore her rotten
husband ten children.
But, alas, one winters morning,
where the land froze over
and frost besides on every bramble bush.
There, on that frozen morning,
lay a once beautiful maiden
dying in her bed.
Her complexion no longer rosey,
but grey and lifeless.
Her golden hair turned limp and thin. Rings around her
beautiful eyes, eyes that once sparkled.
But, a garland of flowers sat in her hands underneath
her eleventh babe, also cold and grey.

So Elizabeth the faire
took her leave of the world without complaint.
And so her name was lost in time.
But that golden may day some years ago,
where the fairest girl ever there was was crowned may queen
shall not be lost. But will live on;
in the human heart.