Neutral Tones

We stood by a pond that winter day,And the sun was white, as though chidden of God,And a few leaves lay on the starving sod,--They had fallen from an ash, and were gray.

Your eyes on me were as eyes that roveOver tedious riddles solved years ago;And some words played between us to and fro -On which lost the more by our love.

The smile on your mouth was the deadest thingAlive enough to have strength to die;And a grin of bitterness swept therebyLike an ominous bird a-wing . . .

Since then, keen lessons that love deceives,And wrings with wrong, have shaped to meYour face, and the God-curst sun, and a tree,And a pond edged with grayish leaves.