Classic Poem

A turn of head, that searching light,
And—was it fancy?—a faint sigh:
I know not what; there leapt the thought,
We are old, now—she and I.

Old, though those eager clear blue eyes,
And lines of laughter along the cheek,
Far less of time than time's despite
To one who loves her speak. …

Besides, those pale and smiling lips,
That once with beauty were content,
Now wisdom too have learned; and that
No clock can circumvent. …

Nor is this world of ours a toy
That woe should darken when bed-time nears;
Still memory-sweet its old decoy,
And—well, what use in tears? …

So limped the brittle argument;
Yet—had I Prospero's wizardry,
She should at once have back her youth,
Whatever chanced to me.