The twentieth year is well nigh past <br />Since first our sky was overcast;— <br />Ah would that this might be the last! <br />My Mary! <br /> <br />Thy spirits have a fainter flow, <br />I see thee daily weaker grow;— <br />'Twas my distress that brought thee low, <br />My Mary! <br /> <br />Thy needles, once a shining store, <br />For my sake restless heretofore, <br />Now rust disused, and shine no more, <br />My Mary! <br /> <br />For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil <br />The same kind office for me still, <br />Thy sight now seconds not thy will, <br />My Mary! <br /> <br />But well thou playedst the housewife's part, <br />And all thy threads with magic art <br />Have wound themselves about this heart, <br />My Mary! <br /> <br />Thy indistinct expressions seem <br />Like language uttered in a dream; <br />Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme, <br />My Mary! <br /> <br />Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, <br />Are still more lovely in my sight <br />Than golden beams of orient light, <br />My Mary! <br /> <br />For could I view nor them nor thee, <br />What sight worth seeing could I see? <br />The sun would rise in vain for me, <br />My Mary! <br /> <br />Partakers of thy sad decline, <br />Thy hands their little force resign; <br />Yet gently pressed, press gently mine, <br />My Mary! <br /> <br />Such feebleness of limbs thou prov'st <br />That now at every step thou mov'st <br />Upheld by two; yet still thou lov'st, <br />My Mary! <br /> <br />And still to love, though pressed with ill, <br />In wintry age to feel no chill, <br />With me is to be lovely still, <br />My Mary! <br /> <br />But ah! by constant heed I know <br />How oft the sadness that I show <br />Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe, <br />My Mary! <br /> <br />And should my future lot be cast <br />With much resemblance of the past, <br />Thy worn-out heart will break at last, <br />My Mary!<br /><br />William Cowper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-mary-3/
