I

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.

II

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.