| 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. |
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