The Wife. By Emily Dickinson

    She rose to his requirement, dropped
    The playthings of her life
    To take the honorable work
    Of woman and of wife.

    If aught she missed in her new day
    Of amplitude, or awe,
    Or first prospective, or the gold
    In using wore away,

    It lay unmentioned, as the sea
    Develops pearl and weed,
    But only to himself is known
    The fathoms they abide.