It was his sayings one remembered.
Like the kiss of a wave --
chill and sharp,
and yet solemn.
He could be intolerable; he could be impossible --
but adorable to walk with,
on a morning like this.
Everywhere, there was a beating --
a stirring of galloping ponies,
wrapped up in the soft mesh
of the grey-blue morning air,
a flight of gulls across the sky
in this extraordinary silence,
and peace.
And in this purity, bells struck --
the sound fading up there among the gulls.
It was plain enough, this beauty;
and tears filled his eyes
as he looked at her.
There was a touch of the jay about her --
blue-green eyes, light, vivacious,
languishing in the melting sky,
bestowing upon him their inexhaustible charity
and laughing goodness;
signaling their intention to provide him,
for nothing --
for ever --
with beauty.
She seemed all light, glowing,
like some bird that has flown in
and attached itself,
for a moment,
to a bramble.
And then,
opening her eyes --
her look,
passing through all that time and emotion,
reached him doubtfully,
settled on him tearfully,
and rose,
and fluttered away.
As she looked, the whole world
became perfectly silent;
mystery had brushed them with her wing.
And now, when millions of things
had utterly vanished,
she remembered --
how strange it was --
a few sayings of his
about cabbages.
--Adapted from Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway