That book in the wicker basket,
North aisle of the nave,
Is one of the saddest things.
Messages for the little ghost who lies,
Alongside,
Some Anglo-saxon kings.

(I watched nobody read it
From a distance.
Her shoulders were shaking.)

Later,
Nobody went with me to London again,
On the train.
The NPG is a short walk across Trafalgar Square
From the station,
And there
(On the third or fifth floor - can't recall)
Was the drawing - so small,
Behind bullet-proof screens,
Alongside,
A bunch of Tudor queens.

(I think I read that she is on tour at the moment.  Australia perhaps.  I wonder who she is rubbing shoulders with now.)