Edwin Arlington Robinson — Neighbors

As often as we thought of her,        &nbsp We thought of a gray life That made a quaint economist        &nbsp Of a wolf-haunted wife; We made the best of all she bore        &nbsp That was not ours to bear, And honored her for wearing things        &nbsp That were not things to wear. There was a distance in her look        &nbsp That made us look again; And if she smiled, we might believe        &nbsp That we had looked in vain. Rarely she came inside our doors,        &nbsp And had not long to stay; And when she left, it seemed somehow        &nbsp That she was far away. At last, when we had all forgot        &nbsp That all is here to change, A shadow on the commonplace        &nbsp Was for a moment strange. Yet there was nothing for surprise,        &nbsp Nor much that need be told: Love, with his gift of pain, had given        &nbsp More than one heart could hold.