"Listen to an old man, darling." But what darling

Listens to an old man except he speak praise,

Praise of her particulars, eyes, hair, shoulders,

Clothes in fresh keeping, her walking in her ways.

But I am old in this if anything. Your friend-sisters

These twenty years have met and pleasured my eye,

And more, that part of a mind that is admiration

For frankness, for energy, which then you rarefy

By your own company together, as if some inward

Measure makes you proud, and all the same height.

Of woman, of course, a dreadful thing in inches,

But beyond beauty beautiful to my man's insight.

That you have found out yourselves is more woman

Than words can find a man for, or a man convey.

But no hand dare loosen, no blunt scissor unbundle

This radiant centering, and let it fall away

By ones and threes blurred in the numberless many.

Being young. is your wisdom. Now is a time to be wise.

Names die. But your particular shining never.

Brisk pride and loveliness - this never dies.