| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | VIII. Victory
To my Friend F. A. B. | | By Beatrice Cregan |
| | Died August 31, 1911
PALE as a pearl you were, | |
| And dark the still, soft midnight of your hair, | |
| My woman friend, so loved, so rare. | |
| |
| Wealth of your heart and brain, | |
| Insight and humour, lore of books and men, | 5 |
| You spent them all to ease my pain. | |
| |
| Your beauty-loving eyes | |
| Read deeper than a man’s: you knew to prize | |
| The wandering stars of darkened skies. | |
| |
| A man’s love comes—and goes, | 10 |
| It marks where beauty ebbs—or flows: | |
| Only a woman loves, and stays—and knows. | | | | |
|
|
