Upon the foreheads of my audience.
I swell tumultuous; my dullard sounds
Ebb platitudes in doleful indigo.
Voluptuously blatant in my greed,
I am the woman garbed in heliotrope,
Whose bustle panics peacocks in the park.
Some take my mellow notes for rosaries—
So holy, steadfast, pure they seem to be.
(Like dear Prince Albert on a promenade,
Inspired apostle of the simple life,