To a Lady Who Said That She Could Not Abide
False Blonde Hair in Women Her Age
Serene in your surrender, you
Hate not, nor love the fading thing,
Which acquiescence sadly few
Attain to, life’s pride perishing.
Here’s one who’s bought a new face; here’s
Another dressing half her age.
More comically our empty fears
Show, balanced by our preening rage.
But in you shows a peacefulness
Regretless in your restful face
As your hands, unstained by distress
Return the gifts of grace to grace.