I LOOK into my glass, And view my wasting skin, And say, Would God it came to pass My heart had shrunk as thin! For then, I, undistrest 5 By hearts grown cold to me, Could lonely wait my endless rest With equanimity. But Time, to make me grieve, Part steals, lets part abide; 10 And shakes this fragile frame at eve With throbbings of noontide.



The End