I LOOK into my glass,
And view my wasting skin,
And say, "Would God it came to pass
My heart had shrunk as thin!"
For then, I, undistrest
By hearts grown cold to me,
Could lonely wait my endless rest
With equanimity.
But Time, to make me grieve,
Part steals, lets part abide;
And shakes this fragile frame at eve
With throbbings of noontide.
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Comments2Just read a really deep poem by Thomas Hardy. That "glass" he talks about holds such a heavy idea ain't it? Makes ya think about getting older and how the heart doesn't really follow. Sweet and depressing at same time. Hats off to ya, Hardy.
Thomas Hardy sure knew how to stir up feelings about aging. It reminds me of being young and not realizing how "Time, to make me grieve, part steals, lets part abide". That truth hit differently as an adult. His comment on hearts grown cold feels bittersweet but overall a very thought-provoking read.