She’d sat just like the others there at tea.

And then I’d seemed to notice that her cup

was being a little differently picked up.

She’d smiled once. It had almost hurt to see.

And when eventually they rose and talked,

and slowly, and as chance led, were dispersing

through several rooms there, laughing and conversing,

I noticed her. Behind the rest she walked

subduedly, like someone who presently

will have to sing, and with so many listening;

on those bright eyes of hers, with pleasure glistening,

played, as on pools, an outer radiancy.

She followed slowly and she needed time,

as though some long ascent were not yet by;

and yet, as though, when she had ceased to climb,

she would no longer merely walk, but fly.