Brave glancing sword and delicate ripples of lace.
For she has conquered dragons of old pain
With a deep-shining clarity of thought:
Victorious though her frailty shows the strain.
I trace
With clumsy words the outlines of her face ...
Brave, grave, and suddenly flashing, purely gay,
Like the lace frills at play!
And so you see as I began I end
This portrait of my friend ...