A Lost Joy

A man who having loved for many days
Some woman gracious, goodly to behold,
With looks that all his yielding will controlled,
Love being dead, views with calm eyes her face,
Admiring, yet not thrilled, and sadly says,
"How is my heart to all this beauty cold.
Lasts there no charm my spirit to enfold?
Valueless now the long-desired embrace,"

When, lo! her face in the old, dear, lovely way
She turns, and speaks; and then his soul perceives
For what he loved her, though the love is dead;
So, walking lonely, on one April day,
Noting the promise of unfolding leaves,
I thought as he, and as he says I said.