Upon a Dying Lady(六)

2026-03-23

VI
Her Courage

When her soul flies to the predestined dancing-place

(I have no speech but symbol, the pagan speech I made

Amid the dreams of youth) let her come face to face,

Amid that first astonishment, with Grania's shade,

All but the terrors of the woodland flight forgot

That made her Diarmuid dear, and some old cardinal

Pacing with half-closed eyelids in a sunny spot

Who had murmured of Giorgione at his latest breath-

Aye, and Achilles, Timor, Babar, Barhaim, all

Who have lived in joy and laughed into the face of Death.