I counted them all out and I counted them all back...

If way to the Better there be,
It exacts a full look at the worse.

I look into my glass,
And viewing wasting skin,
And say, "Would God it came to pass
My heart had shrunk as thin !"

For them, I, undistrest,
By hearts grown cold to me,
Could lonely wait my endless rest
With equanimity.

But time, to make me grieve,
Part steals, lets part abide;
And shakes this fragile frame at eve
With throbbings of noontide.