Page:Wessex poems and other verses (IA wessexpoemsother00hard).pdf/50

 Numb as a vane that cankers on its point, True to the wind that kissed ere canker came; Despised by souls of Now, who would disjoint The mind from memory, and make Life all aim,

My old dexterities of hue quite gone, And nothing left for Love to look upon.

1866.