By this he knew she wept with waking eyes: <br /> That, at his hand's light quiver by her head, <br /> The strange low sobs that shook their common bed <br /> Were called into her with a sharp surprise, <br /> And strangled mute, like little gaping snakes, <br /> Dreadfully venomous to him. She lay <br /> Stone-still, and the long darkness flowed away <br /> With muffled pulses. Then, as midnight makes <br /> Her giant heart of Memory and Tears <br /> Drink the pale drug of silence, and so beat <br /> Sleep's heavy measure, they from head to feet <br /> Were moveless, looking through their dead black years, <br /> By vain regret scrawled over the blank wall. <br /> Like sculptured effigies they might be seen <br /> Upon their marriage-tomb, the sword between; <br /> Each wishing for the sword that severs all.<br /><br />George Meredith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/modern-love-i/
