Sculpture of Diana

Within the forest’s thorny bows,
A single figure stands,
The statue of some goddess fair,
Kidnapped from foreign lands.

Wild Jasmine blossoms at Her feet,
Dew pools in marbled eyes
To trail down spider-woven gowns
And fallow sod baptize.

The starling sings Her sacred hymns.
The red buck, now Her priest,
Both fail to light a flame to Her,
When seasons bring Her feast.

My Lady’s now a mossy stone,
Abandoned and forgot.
Shall we curse he whose mortal hand,
Had brought you here to rot?