We stood by a pond that winter day, And the sun was white, as though chidden of God, And a few leaves lay on the starving sod, --They had fallen from an ash, and were gray.
Your eyes on me were as eyes that rove Over tedious riddles solved years ago;And some words played between us to and fro -On which lost the more by our love.
The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing Alive enough to have strength to die;And a grin of bitterness swept thereby Like an ominous bird a-wing...
Since then, keen lessons that love deceives, And wrings with wrong, have shaped to me Your face, and the God-curst sun, and a tree, And a pond edged with grayish leaves.
1867.
