Of all the joy of girlish victory.
She gave them to me as we mounted up,
With all the bold effrontery that dares
To face the aged ones, who've come to sup,
And sidles off to alcoves on the stairs.
She gave them to me, but some sprays, I know,
All dying then, as though life's task were laid
To rest within that burning breast of snow;
And there the last great debt of all were paid.
She gave them to me, and my heart did beat,