She smiled, those eyes of greeting,
Doors opened with moving breeze,
I entered the drawing room, amused
As I crept with creeks from golden
Wood floors at the foot of the stairs,
Throughout her abode, finery draped
And sheer linens played with the sun
Round her body. We drew the curtains
That led the light and waited for dark,
A kettle broke out and filled our cups
By the bay windows that burst, pierced
Into her lovely gardens, we had some
Tea and talked of travels and seasons
Huddled in the glassy mirror of nook,
Of her white conservatory, at the table
Already made with silver and crystal
And songbirds sang in the open airs.