Thomas Hardy — The Opportunity

Forty springs back, I recall,        &nbsp We met at this phase of the Maytime: We might have clung close through all,        &nbsp But we parted when died that daytime. We parted with smallest regret;        &nbsp Perhaps should have cared but slightly, Just then, if we never had met:        &nbsp Strange, strange that we lived so lightly! Had we mused a little space        &nbsp At that critical date in the Maytime, One life had been ours, one place,        &nbsp Perhaps, till our long cold daytime. - This is a bitter thing        &nbsp For thee, O man: what ails it? The tide of chance may bring        &nbsp Its offer; but nought avails it!