From 'The Enchanted April'

She stared.

Such beauty and she there to see it.

Such beauty and she alive to feel it.

Her face was bathed in light.

How beautiful, how beautiful.

Not to have died before this.

To have been allowed to see, breathe, feel this.

She stared, her lips parted.

Happy?

Poor, ordinary, everyday word.

But what could she say,

how could she describe it?

It was as though she could hard-y stay inside herself,

it was as though she were too small

to hold so much of joy,

it was as though she were washed through with light.