| Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869–1935). Collected Poems. 1921. |
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| VIII. Avon’s Harvest, Etc. |
| 5. Vain Gratuities |
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| NEVER was there a man much uglier | |
| In eyes of other women, or more grim: | |
| “The Lord has filled her chalice to the brim, | |
| So let us pray she’s a philosopher,” | |
| They said; and there was more they said of her— | 5 |
| Deeming it, after twenty years with him, | |
| No wonder that she kept her figure slim | |
| And always made you think of lavender. | |
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| But she, demure as ever, and as fair, | |
| Almost, as they remembered her before | 10 |
| She found him, would have laughed had she been there; | |
| And all they said would have been heard no more | |
| Than foam that washes on an island shore | |
| Where there are none to listen or to care. | |
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