In a Eweleaze Near Weatherbury

The years have gathered grayly
   Since I danced upon this leaze
With one who kindled gaily
   Love's fitful ecstasies!
But despite the term as teacher,
   I remain what I was then
In each essential feature
   Of the fantasies of men.
Yet I note the little chisel
   Of never-napping Time,
Defacing ghast and grizzel
   The blazon of my prime.
When at night he thinks me sleeping,
   I feel him boring sly
Within my bones, and heaping
   Quaintest pains for by-and-by.
Still, I'd go the world with Beauty,
   I would laugh with her and sing,
I would shun divinest duty
   To resume her worshipping.
But she'd scorn my brave endeavour,
   She would not balm the breeze
By murmuring "Thine for ever!"
   As she did upon this leaze.
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1890.

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