Isabelle Cooper - Our Last Quarrel

Strange that a smile
Should slide away like that
As though fallen from her face

That blue-bright eyes could change
Like that to grey-and draw their shutters
All before the paleness fell
And washed her into whiteness

Never our words could be unspoken now
Or taken back, nor this, the stricken hour

Be stricken from me
Nor any reach of heaven
Hold this hell

Isabelle Cooper

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/our-last-quarrel/