.
Thy Servant Elizabeth
_“Well-done, unswerving servant,”
_All the church bells rang
_On all the roads of England,
_While all the angels sang
_Above the long procession
_That formed her funeral;
_The car conveyed her body
_As her Christ assumed her soul.
_In clashing grief and triumph,
_The strong-voiced, iron-tongued
Choir of bells proclaimed that she
_Now wore the crown she’d longed
_To wear, and now was free from
_The heavy earthly one
Whose weight she’d taken as her cross.
_Humbly laying down
Her life, she died to self, to do
_The task that she was given
By her Creator, bearing fruit
_On earth, to win in heaven
_A crown whose weight is glory.
_Westminster’s sculpted stone
Cries out, with every English bell,
_“Your earthly task is done.
You wear the crown reserved for you,
_Given by the King
Whose kingdom never ends.” While you,
_Our queen, are entering
His realm, earth’s bells express our thanks
_For your illustrious reign,
And sorrow for the vanished grace
_You spread through this domain.
.
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Cynthia Erlandson is a poet and fitness professional living in Michigan. Her third collection of poems, Foundations of the Cross and Other Bible Stories, was released in July, 2024 by Wipf and Stock Publishers. Her other collections are These Holy Mysteries and Notes on Time. Her poems have also appeared in First Things, Modern Age, The North American Anglican, The Orchards Poetry Review, The Book of Common Praise hymnal, The Catholic Poetry Room, and elsewhere.
Very beautiful poem, Cynthia, and a lovely tribute – thank you. You know, you have Democrats, you have Republicans: why, you and Evan could form a Monarchist party? (But whatever you do, don’t appoint the Queen in Montecito!)
Thank you so much, James.
A wonderful tribute to an exceptional Queen. I longed to walk with others to bow where she was resting and pay my respects. Thanks for bringing back fond memories.
Thank you, Jordan. I would love to have been there myself, though I know I would have been sobbing. It was such a profoundly beautiful funeral that I was absolutely glued to the screen all day.
A worthy testament to a great monarch. I loved the ‘iron-tongued choir’. What an image.
Thanks for the read, Cynthia.
Thank you so much, Paul. I am in love with the sound of bells, and knowing that all of them, all over the nation, were ringing at the same time, was overwhelmingly inspiring.
I find this piece very moving, especially as its title, referring as it did originally to the first Queen Elizabeth (cf William Byrd), opens up a long historical retrospect, and a majestic sense of continuity. Thank you Cynthia.
Thank you, Martin. In addition to bell music, I am also in love with the music of William Byrd.
Cynthia, this is a beautiful poem linking the earthly crown with the heavenly one. “A crown whose weight is glory” is one of the inspiring phrases you gifted us.
Thank you, Roy. That phrase was inspired by C.S. Lewis’ profound essay/sermon entitled “The Weight of Glory”.
A stunning tribute to a Queen whose dignity and grace went beyond the borders of the United Kingdom. The poignant lines:
“The car conveyed her body
_As her Christ assumed her soul” …. touch my soul!
Thank you, Paulette. Yes, she must have been one of the most gracious monarchs ever to grace a throne.
She was a queen who never once let any private wish of her own take precedence over the claims of royal duty to her land and her people. That is true self-sacrifice.
Yes, that’s one of the reasons I admired her.
Well Cynthia, your prior commentators didn’t leave much for me to focus on in your lovely poem about the exceptional Queen. But fortunately, I especially loved the closing lines, and in particular the phrase “the vanished grace.” Well done!
Thank you, Russel. I do think she was exceptional.
In her own way she was extremely weak.
She looked away while vultures dipped a beak.
There’s almost nothing left of what was England
Except the rotting carcass of a penguin.
It is indeed tragic. I wish she somehow could have been allowed to raise her son; I believe that if she had, he might have been a good king.
Many things could have gone different that didn’t. If she actually had any executive power, she should have used it.
You’ve been listening to the roundabout painters too much.
And you’ve been listening to the pulse in your anal sphincter, Paulie.
She deserves a lot more such tributes. It is exceptionally rare for those who inherit rather than earn positions of power to turn out so well. She seemed to hold her scepter lightly, understanding her position in the divine pecking order.
I agree, Warren. Thank you for this comment.
Dear Cynthia
What a lovely poem. Thank you. I have a precious memory about the Queen. An opportunity “fell into my lap” to attend the Holyrood Royal garden party in Edinburgh Scotland in 1995. This is an annual event, when the Royals make their way to Balmoral in Midsummer, and all Scotland is abuzz. To somehow nab a ticket is to have “arrived” in the Scottish social pecking order–you have to know someone who knows someone who knows Someone High Up etc. Here are my faxed notes, those of a feckless graceless American woman!– to my Aberdeen-based friend who had issued the invitation to me:
I am alarmed! MATCHING shoes, gloves, dress, hat? Good heavens. In what fabrics? One color–what colors (pastels?) Should I go to a bridal shop–I’m lost. And I don’t have any best jewelry!
On the flight over, my new hat was crushed in its hatbox–so I spent a few days obsessing over whether I should try to buy a new one in Aberdeen. Luckily, the hat somehow regained its shape in time.
The lawn party was absolutely over-the-top splendid. I saw the 69-year old Queen from a not-too-far-away distance–though of course I was not in the “receiving line”–and I was struck by her flawless wrinkle-free complexion. She indeed was blessed by God.
Most sincerely
Mary Jane
That is so marvelous! Thank you for sharing that, Mary Jane! What a great experience it must have been. England was surely blessed by her.
What color did you end up deciding on? Seriously — everything you wore had to be the same color? How funny! I’m glad your hat recovered!
I ended up buying a light-lemony-yellow two-piece silk suit designed by (as I recall) Ellen Tracy. The hat was from Nordstroms. I wore the suit and hat on several additional “dressup” occasions. I donated the suit to charity finally–I had not worn the suit in many years (because alas it no longer fit!) I gave the hat away to a friend.
My wife and I were driving from San Francisco home to Albuquerque when we heard the news of the Queen’s passing. We were returning from an Alaskan cruise when Michele came down with Covid, so our return flight from SFO was supplanted by a car rental. The fields between Williams and Flagstaff, Arizona were carpeted with wild sunflowers. However much anticipated, the news was like a blow to the gut. The Queen was a faithful fixture for my whole life, and I appreciated her more and more as the years passed. I especially looked forward to her Christmas messages. Cynthia, in an era of suspicious cynicism, your tribute is a delightful and defiant response of appreciation. Thank you for it!
You’re so welcome, Dan, and thank you so much for your encouraging words.
Cynthia, thank you so very much for this. I have become so sad over the loss of Britain as I knew it, I didn’t know how to respond. Your poem is beautiful and sensitive. I apologize in advance for writing a comment with not a jot of beauty in sight:
As you know, Queen Elizabeth II played a big part in my formative years. I especially love the closing stanza. You capture the essence of a beloved queen and a woman of grace – a grace that has indeed disappeared. My homeland has been murdered, and her “proper Charlie”* of a successor has crimson stains on his green, polytheistic soul.
*British slang for blithering idiot
Dear Susan, thank you so very much for your wonderful response. As I wrote this, naturally I couldn’t help thinking of you, and I do recall reading your poem “For My Queen” just three years ago, praising this queen for her “nobility, stability, and grace”. I, too, mourn her loss, and grieve the loss of those things in the dreadful events — the “murder” as you accurately call it — happening in our beloved England. (As an Anglican, of course I’ve thought of the Church of England as my mother church.) I’m horrified at “proper Charlie’s” so-zealous relinquishing of his nation’s Christian heritage to those who hate it.
The last stanza is splendid, Cynthia. All of us who’ve lived most of our lives with Elizabeth as queen can feel it. Her early promise to devote her entire life to service of her peoples echoes in our ears, though we may not have been subjects. I recall the privilege of seeing Her Majesty close up in Scotland during my honeymoon trip, and near the end of her life, celebrating the 70th jubilee of her reign in London. No wonder you are still making remembrance three years later!
Many thanks, Margaret. It is tragic that she worked so hard and lovingly for the good of her country and subjects, only to have it deteriorate so extremely. What a glorious experience for you to have seen her in person!