Tact by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Observant of the way she told So much of what was true, No vanity could long withhold Regard that was her due: She spared him the familiar guide, So easily achieved, That only made a man to smile And left him undeceived.
Aware that all imagining Of more than what she meant Would urge an end of everything, He stayed; and when he went, They parted with a merry word That was to him as light As any that was ever heard Upon a starry night.
She smiled a little, knowing well That he would not remark The ruins of the a day that fell Around her in the dark: He saw no ruins anywhere, Nor fancied there were scars On anyone who lingered there, Along below the stars.
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