One dear brilliant woman；
The best-endowed， the elect，
All by their youth undone，
All， all， by that inhuman
Bitter glory wrecked.
But I have straightened out
Ruin， wreck and wrack；
I toiled long years and at length
Came to so deep a thought
I can summon back
All their wholesome strength.
What images are these
That turn dull-eyed away，
Or shift Time's filthy load，
Straighten aged knees，
Hesitate or stay？
What heads shake or nod？