Ten years you've sat (within the room you wrought)
To guard me from the Fear,
Except for hurried trip (when I was out)
Down town ... and near, quite near.

Ten years you've sat, except for stolen walk
(With scribbled note on shelf),
By lakeside lane or neighbor's hollyhock,
Anxiously, by yourself.

Ten years together we have hugged our home
Because of this fierce Fear,
And made our prison-close a world to roam,
Counting so dear, so dear

Our swims, our skatings, picnics, we together,
Our phases of the moon,
Getting our changes from the changing weather
From June around to June;

Viewing our lake (from hills behind our door)
With its blue miles of light,
While those far woodlands on the other shore
Turned green ... then red ... then white;

Calling a luncheon at a near cafe
A journey on the train,
Calling a neighboring concert, lecture, play,
A voyage to Greece or Spain;

Reading by lamp of Rome and Gipsy Trail,
Where friends go, two and two
(Whither I'd hoped with bride of mine to sail
While yet this curse was new) ...

Ten years ... and you have still such youth and grace,
One born to see and do ...
While even in Town-and-Gown your woman's place
My Fear withholds from you.

You dream no more (though long the dream was dear)
Of any child at breast,
Playing the mother to a cureless Fear
(Cureless, for all my quest).

Ten years ... and though I try to think " my wife
In spirit still is free,
And in so cherishing my wretched life,
Works her good works through me, "

Yet gnaws me utterly one grief and shame:
You've paid, because you could,
For a foul wrong to me, before you came,
That broke my hardihood.