A Princess Dies

Ronjchana lies dead, in a cream ivory cask,
And from ivory too was carved her death mask;
The ivory of Russia, of Siberia’s frozen North;
None within court know its age nor true worth.

Her cask from paired tusks, of twelve cubits in length,
What mammoth colossal bore these with his strength?
A Behemoth forgotten, dead Millenniums long past,
Succumbed to the climate’s unannounced icy blast.

And Ronjchana lies dead, a young body now cold;
The Princess of Siam, with her dowry of gold.