Long Plighted by Thomas Hardy

IS it worth while, dear, now, / To call for bells, and sally forth arrayed / For marriage-rites-discussed, decried, delayed / So many years?

Is it worth while, dear, now, / To stir desire for old fond purposings, / By feints that Time still serves for dallyings, / Though quittance nears?

Is it worth while, dear, when / The day being so far spent, so low the sun, / The undone thing will soon be as the done, / And smiles as tears?

Is it worth while, dear, when / Our cheeks are worn, our early brown is gray; / When, meet or part we, none says yea or nay, / Or heeds, or cares?

Is it worth while, dear, since / We still can climb old Yell'ham's wooded mounds / Together, as each season steals its rounds / And disappears?

Is it worth while, dear, since / As mates in Mellstock churchyard we can lie, / Till the last crash of all things low and high / Shall end the spheres?