Tact
Observant of the way she toldSo much of what was true,No vanity could long withholdRegard that was her due:She spared him the familiar guile,So easily achieved,That only made a man to smileAnd left him undeceived.
Aware that all imaginingOf more than what she meantWould urge an end of everything,He stayed; and when he went,They parted with a merry wordThat was to him as lightAs any that was ever heardUpon a starry night.
She smiled a little, knowing wellThat he would not remarkThe ruins of a day that fellAround her in the dark:He saw no ruins anywhere,Nor fancied there were scarsOn anyone who lingered there,Alone below the stars.