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Thomas Hardy - Amabel
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I MARKED her ruined hues,
     Her custom-straitened views,
     And asked, "Can there indwell
        My Amabel?"

     I looked upon her gown,
     Once rose, now earthen brown;
     The change was like the knell
        Of Amabel.

     Her step`s mechanic ways
     Had lost the life of May`s;
     Her laugh, once sweet in swell,
        Spoilt Amabel.

     I mused: "Who sings the strain
     I sang ere warmth did wane?
     Who thinks its numbers spell
        His Amabel?"—

     Knowing that, though Love cease,
     Love`s race shows undecrease;
     All find in dorp or dell
        An Amabel.

     —I felt that I could creep
     To some housetop, and weep,
     That Time the tyrant fell
        Ruled Amabel!

     I said (the while I sighed
     That love like ours had died),
     "Fond things I`ll no more tell
        To Amabel,

     "But leave her to her fate,
     And fling across the gate,
     `Till the Last Trump, farewell,
        O Amabel!`"
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