Poems (Hardy)/Her calendar
For works with similar titles, see Her calendar.
HER CALENDAR
S. M. M., Jan. 16, 1886.
WE do not count her age by days and years, But by the constant summer in her face;Not by the sorrows that have brought her tears, But by the faith that takes away their trace; Hence have we kept in warm familiar placeSuch record,—be we younger,—as endears All that she is to us, and adds a graceTo each till each as old as she appears.But we, who older walk with her, have caught That chrism, too, that doth her life enrich;For the high faith which in her soul hath wrought Reflects a light on ours from that fair nicheWherein our hearts, in love for her made bold,Have set her that she never may grow old.