I walked up and down by it and said your name over and over again . The hour was sacred to you . It was as pure and unspoiled as your own soul . Una , who will bring into your life the sunrise splendour and colour of love ? * * * * * Do you know how beautiful you are , Una ? Let me tell you , dear . You are tall , yet you have to lift your eyes a little to meet mine . Such dear eyes , Una ! They are dark blue , and when you smile they are like wet violets in sunshine . But when you are pensive they are more lovely still -- the spirit and enchantment of the sea at twilight passes into them then . Your hair has the gloss and brownness of ripe nuts , and your face is always pale . Your lips have a trick of falling apart in a half-smile when you listen . They told me before I knew you that you were pretty . Pretty ! The word is cheap and tawdry . You are beautiful , with the beauty of a pearl or a star or a white flower . * * * * * Do you remember our first meeting ? It was one evening last spring . You were in your garden . The snow had not all gone , but your hands were full of pale , early flowers .
You wore a white shawl XXXXX your shoulders and head .
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