I <br /> <br /> WHEN you shall see me lined by tool of Time, <br /> My lauded beauties carried off from me, <br /> My eyes no longer stars as in their prime, <br /> My name forgot of Maiden Fair and Free; <br /> <br /> When in your being heart concedes to mind, <br /> And judgment, though you scarce its process know, <br /> Recalls the excellencies I once enshrined, <br /> And you are irked that they have withered so: <br /> <br /> Remembering that with me lies not the blame, <br /> That Sportsman Time but rears his brood to kill, <br /> Knowing me in my soul the very same-- <br /> One who would die to spare you touch of ill!-- <br /> Will you not grant to old affection's claim <br /> The hand of friendship down Life's sunless hill?<br /><br />Thomas Hardy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/she-to-him/
