The Queen of Cups has had plenty of experience in matters of the heart. They have searched and experimented, moved through breakups and new love, learned about kindness and compassion.
The Queen of Cups knows herself and knows how deeply she is connected to the whole Universe. She is grounded in her emotional life, which may not always be steady, but she owns it with passion. She knows how to listen. She knows how to tune out the noise and hear what his heart has to say in any situation
Dame Mary Gilmore rightly deserves the title of Queen of Cups. She was a writer whose outspoken advocacy of universal social justice, nationalism and the often forgotten aspects of Australian rural life in 19th Century Australia made her a legend during her own long lifetime. She campaigned for a wide range of social and economic reforms, such as votes for women, old-age and invalid pensions, child endowment and improved treatment of returned servicemen, the poor and Aboriginals.
This is an intuitive person, someone who feels everything. Empathetic, they can ‘tune in’ to the people they meet and understand them on a deep level.
Mary Jean Cameron, known to her family as Jeannie, was born near Goulburn in August 1865 of Scottish-Irish stock. Her father, Donald Cameron, was a wanderer who moved his family around south-western New South Wales where Jeannie learned to love the country and respect Aboriginal traditions. At 7 in the Brucedale School near Wagga Wagga she learned to write: “I had wings. I could not help writing.”
Singapore, one of her famous poems decrying war, reveals just how a-tune Gilmore was with her feelings
They grouped together about the chief
And each one looked at his mate,
Ashamed to think that Australian men
Should meet such bitter fate!
And black was the wrath in each hot heart
And savage oaths they swore
As they thought of how they had all been ditched
By “Impregnable” Singapore.
In her vaunted place she squatted the sea
On a base that was Maginot bred
Her startled face looked up at the skies
To the enemy planes o’erhead.
Enemy planes; while ours were – where?
That cry we had heard before
Our hearts were wrung as it rose this time
From beleaguered Singapore.
She brought forth death as her eldest child
With defeat as her second son.
Then she hung a white flag out on a staff
To show that her task was done.
And sick with rage the Australians stood,
And God! how those Anzacs swore –
Bennett and all his men alike –
At the fall of Singapore.
Whose was the fault she betrayed our troops?
Whose was the fault she failed!?
Ask it of those who lowered the flag
At once to the mast was nailed,
Tell them we’ll raise it on Anzac soil
With hearts that are steeled to the core
We swear by our dead and captive sons
REVENGE FOR SINGAPORE!
Waltzing With Matilda's 