All covet beauty for its lustrous power

For glamour is the monarch all men serve,

And be such reign no longer than an hour—

Small ransoms still exchange for that sweet myrrh;

Incensed so, the weaker sex gains might—

Soft power to vanquish kings no sword could slay;

While mighty sovereigns with their glass oft fight

To find that angle painters should portray.

A lovely face can be a regal crown

Whose gilded shine oft blinds as happy tears;

Of birthright pure, or paint, still held on loan…

Time’s usury to call in meager years.

Such is the paradox vanity imparts,

Where jestress may yet rule as Queen of Hearts.