She was death
In a paper cup
And wine
In the cooling air
Gliding securely
Through the crowds
With sylvian grace.

Grandeur met
And greeted once
As equals
Not as foes
She was all the
Essence of beauty
Of the human race

Or otherworldly
I know not
As on the
Tread of time
She danced a
Rapturing rythm
None can trace

Innocence displayed
In laughter
Clean and fair
Music to the mourner
Gladsome tidings
And crisp dew-drops
Of purest sunlight
On springtime day

Eyes afire
With inner life
That flames bright
In passion expressed
By the tear-drawing
Repository of beauty
That is her face.