Wives in the Sere

Never a careworn wife but shows, 

   If a joy suffuse her, 

Something beautiful to those 

   Patient to peruse her, 

Some one charm the world unknows 

   Precious to a muser, 

Haply what, ere years were foes, 

   Moved her mate to choose her. 

But, be it a hint of rose 

   That an instant hues her, 

Or some early light or pose 

   Wherewith thought renews her - 

Seen by him at full, ere woes 

   Practised to abuse her - 

Sparely comes it, swiftly goes, 

   Time again subdues her. 

-o0o-