Brilliancy

Born rich, she'd know the brilliancy of gold
To burnish sweet, sad summers, while the dark  
And dank, green, water-filled ponds sit right next  
To marbled nymphs, that had been carved so bold,  
They stand bare under chestnut-trees - the park,  
Contained grey mildewed benches, where she'd slept,  
Desiring splendid deaths, that she could fold  
Into a reverie, that caused the stark  
Reality to fade; she scraped and crept  
Through cracks in broken fencing: there she sold  
Herself a dream that plainly hit the mark,  
A fantasist like her could catch: it leapt  
Into her mind and overwhelmed her core -  
She knew this brilliancy; but she stayed poor.