New Soliloquy, at Powerscourt
By Mary Watts
For my son, there will be food,
And, for me, spices.
For my scholar-husband, the light,
With cool drink, in honored shades:
And a measure of property in Arcadia.
For I shall hold my household safe
From golden temptations—
Of that dim world,
Where there is no youth;
That realm of supplicants,
Who are no more
Than a front for huddled, unseen beggars!
I await the bright time of freedom,
And its rise over excess and greed.
[Another poem by Mary Watts]
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