As a historic figure, Eva Gore Booth is hardly forgotten, but her poems are not widely read any more, though she published nine collections, along with several plays and books of essays, and all this alongside her political activism in support of women’s and labour rights. The title of this poem is pretty much self-explanatory.
The princess in her world-old tower pined
A prisoner, brazen-caged, without a gleam
Of sunlight, or a windowful of wind;
She lived but in a long lamp-lighted dream.
They brought her forth at last when she was old;
The sunlight on her blanched hair was shed
Too late to turn its silver into gold.
“Ah, shield me from this brazen glare!” she said.