| Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869–1935). Collected Poems. 1921. |
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| V. The Town Down the River |
| 29. For a Dead Lady |
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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 | 5 |
| 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; | 10 |
| 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 | 15 |
| 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; | 20 |
| 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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