A hasty jest I once let fall- <br />As jests are wont to be, untrue- <br />As if the sum of joy to you <br />Were hunt and picnic, rout and ball. <br /> <br />Your eyes met mine: I did not blame; <br />You saw it: but I touched too near <br />Some noble nerve; a silent tear <br />Spoke soft reproach, and lofty shame. <br /> <br />I do not wish those words unsaid. <br />Unspoilt by praise and pleasure, you <br />In that one look to woman grew, <br />While with a child, I thought, I played. <br /> <br />Next to mine own beloved so long! <br />I have not spent my heart in vain. <br />I watched the blade; I see the grain; <br />A woman's soul, most soft, yet strong. <br /> <br /> <br />Eversley, 1856.<br /><br />Charles Kingsley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-g-a-g/
