As often as we thought of her, <br />We thought of a gray life <br />That made a quaint economist <br />Of a wolf-haunted wife; <br />We made the best of all she bore <br />That was not ours to bear, <br />And honored her for wearing things <br />That were not things to wear. <br /> <br />There was a distance in her look <br />That made us look again; <br />And if she smiled, we might believe <br />That we had looked in vain. <br />Rarely she came inside our doors, <br />And had not long to stay; <br />And when she left, it seemed somehow <br />That she was far away. <br /> <br />At last, when we had all forgot <br />That all is here to change, <br />A shadow on the commonplace <br />Was for a moment strange. <br />Yet there was nothing for suprise, <br />Nor much that need be told: <br />Love, with its gift of pain, had given <br />More than one heart could hold.<br /><br />Edwin Arlington Robinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/neighbors/
