Lament for the Crinoline's Flame
Richard
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Oh, garments vast, with folds that sweep,
Like ocean in twilight deep,
Thy beauty hides a dreadful snare,
fiery fate beyond compare.
The crinoline, with pride adorned,
queenly frame by fashion mourned,
Yet in thy breadth, embers lie,
A spark to doom, a flame to die.
See Fanny’s hands with waxen seal,
Her dress ignites—no to heal.
The poet weeps; his muse is stilled,
fire’s cruel hand, her life was killed.
Oscar’s sisters in mirth,
Their gowns aflame—a cursed birth.
The laughter to cries of pain,
As fire consumed the silken train.
O fashion’s folly! O vanity’s cost!
So many lives cruelly lost.
The forest primeval mourns thy plight,
Its and hemlocks wail at night.
Let us not forget cries,
The women caught in flame that flies.
A learned from beauty’s bane:
Beware the spark; resist the flame.
So sing we now this somber tune,
Beneath the and waning moon.
For those who danced in fire's embrace,
May peace be theirs in heaven's grace.