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.