Fleur Delacour (as seen by Ron Weasley)

I saw her at the Yule Ball with hair golden like the Sun.
She looked at me in passing, but greeting there came none.
She emanated beauty and she radiated grace.
She moved me with her honey voice and perfect pretty face.
As she passed me by I inhaled her scent with eyelids on display.
In my head I took her hand and my mind's ears heard her say,
"Ronald Weasley, I love you," in that voice dripping in French.
But instead I sat there with my date on the Delacour-less bench.
At the side of the Hall we sat, and never did I dance
With whom I would come to deem as the belle of all of France.