Thomas Hardy (1840–1928). Wessex Poems and Other Verses. 1898.
51. I Look into my Glass
And view my wasting skin,
And say, “Would God it came to pass
My heart had shrunk as thin!”
By hearts grown cold to me,
Could lonely wait my endless rest
Part steals, lets part abide;
And shakes this fragile frame at eve
With throbbings of noontide.