Diana the huntress, hunted and dead

is brought to her final rest.

Brought to the abbey, awesome and dread,

by soldiers exquisitely dressed.

The perfect timing, impresses so much,

like the silence of death, at midday.

The flower strewn hearse is a visible crutch,

to the crowds who surge and sway.

Soldiers in clockwork precision,

and family torn by grief,

drop back in the shade of your vision.

Dimmed by your candle, so brief.