Thomas Hardy — Wives In The Sere

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.