We stood by a pond that winter day, 
And the sun was white as though chidden of God, 
And a few leaves lay on the starving sod; 
- They had fallen from an ash, and were gray. 

Your eyes on me were as eyes that rove
Over tedious riddles of years ago; 
And some words played between us to and fro
- On which lost the more by our love. 

The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing
Alive enough to have strength to die; 
And a grin of bitterness swept thereby
Like an ominous bird a-wing. 

Since then, keen lessons that love deceives, 
And wrings with wrong, have shaped to me
Your face, and the God-curst sun, and a tree, 
And a pond edged with grayish leaves.