For a Dead Lady by Edwin Arlington Robinson

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NO more with overflowing light

Shall fill the eyes that now are faded, / Nor shall another's fringe with night

Their woman-hidden world as they did.

No more shall quiver down the days

The flowing wonder of her ways, / Whereof no language may requite

The shifting and the many-shaded.

The grace, divine, definitive, / Clings only as a faint forestalling;

The laugh that love could not forgive

Is hushed, and answers to no calling; / The forehead and the little ears

Have gone where Saturn keeps the years; / The breast where roses could not live

Has done with rising and with falling.

The beauty, shattered by the laws

That have creation in their keeping, / No longer trembles at applause, / Or over children that are sleeping;

And we who delve in beauty's lore

Know all that we have known before

Of what inexorable cause

Makes Time so vicious in his reaping.

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