Thomas Hardy — In the Night She Came

I told her when I left one day That whatsoever weight of care Might strain our love, Time's mere assault        &nbsp Would work no changes there. And in the night she came to me,        &nbsp Toothless, and wan, and old, With leaden concaves round her eyes,        &nbsp And wrinkles manifold. I tremblingly exclaimed to her, "O wherefore do you ghost me thus! I have said that dull defacing Time        &nbsp Will bring no dreads to us." "And is that true of YOU?" she cried        &nbsp In voice of troubled tune. I faltered: "Well . . . I did not think        &nbsp 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        &nbsp The fear she had averred. Her doubts then wrought their shape in me,        &nbsp And when next day I paid My due caress, we seemed to be        &nbsp Divided by some shade.