Neutral Tones

 by British poet

Thomas Hardy (b. 1840 - d. 1928)

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 grey.

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 di;

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 greyish leaves.