These are the few who love her as she is and are readying themselves for the last stand. For everywhere the weather has grown strange; a,, that's left untouched are the contours of the land.

These are the few who knew her as she was
before the wind burned out the blossom of her skin;
The ones who have pledged their spirits to the cause
in this battle only words' weapons will win.

These are the few who have her make complaint
that the worse betrayal comes from those close by
but all's not lost;
Because hope, eager as eye-bright,
will always be the last of her die.

So before the head and the heart's jury
give their final verdict.
And before her royal jewellery is
indistinguishable from the dust.
surely every one of these few's
fortress must be stormed and overrun...