I told her when I left one day

That whatsoever weight of care

Might strain our love, Time’s mere assault

   Would work no changes there.

And in the night she came to me,

   Toothless, and wan, and old,

With leaden concaves round her eyes,

   And wrinkles manifold.

I tremblingly exclaimed to her,

“O wherefore do you ghost me thus!

I have said that dull defacing Time

   Will bring no dreads to us.”

“And is that true of you?” she cried

   In voice of troubled tune.

I faltered: “Well . . . I did not think

   You would test me quite so soon!”

She vanished with a curious smile,

Which told me, plainlier than by word,

That my staunch pledge could scarce beguile

   The fear she had averred.

Her doubts then wrought their shape in me,

   And when next day I paid

My due caress, we seemed to be

   Divided by some shade.