Thomas Hardy
The Rival
     I determined to find out whose it was -
     The portrait he looked at so, and sighed;
Bitterly have I rued my meanness
        And wept for it since he died!

     I searched his desk when he was away,
     And there was the likeness—yes, my own!
Taken when I was the season's fairest,
        And time-lines all unknown.

     I smiled at my image, and put it back,
     And he went on cherishing it, until
I was chafed that he loved not the me then living,
        But that past woman still.

      Well, such was my jealousy at last,
      I destroyed that face of the former me;
Could you ever have dreamed the heart of woman
        Would work so foolishly!